


Awake My Soul

by Demenior



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Cultural Differences, Culture of Non-Binary Gender Roles, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Has Trauma, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluid Sexuality, Forced Relationship, Multi, Not Season 3 Compliant, Political Marriage, Politics, Polyamory, Post-Season 2, Slow Burn, Wilderness Survival, all the tropes that entails, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2016-06-17
Packaged: 2018-05-09 04:56:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 87,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5526161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With their people on the brink of death Bellamy and Clarke are forced to go to Lexa for help. The two of them have given everything for their people, but can they accept Lexa's ultimatum? Facing an unforgiving winter, political unrest and on the brink of a civil war, Clarke, Lexa and Bellamy will learn the price of sacrifice, regret and what it means to love. (an alternative to s3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bellamy

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic quite recently after season 2 finished, because there were just so many possibilities! I intended to have it finished before s3 started, as it quickly became apparent that I was writing my own version of what s3 might look like. I don't think that's going to happen, but I'm going to start posting chapters anyways!
> 
> Right now I can't promise a consistant update schedule, as I'm still furiously writing, editing, and rewriting. But I can guarantee you that this is going to be a long story, and it's going to be a slow build. I want to take time to be true to every character, and be true to their emotions and what they have to deal with in their hectic lives. But I can promise a happy ending! As happy as these characters can be in their situations at least!
> 
> Each chapter will have it's own specific warnings, though the fic overall shouldn't have anything that you wouldn't see in the show. I'll update tags as we go, as things may change. I'm currently working on trying to incorporate the Jaha/Murphy/City of Light plotline into this fic, but it's having some trouble meshing and may not make the cut. If it does you can be sure that the characters will be added (:
> 
> The official/unofficial theme song for this fic is 'Awake My Soul' by Mumford & Sons. Their entire album 'Sigh No More' is my choice of writing music to set the tone for this fic.
> 
> Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: canon-typical violence. rushed intro writing. A big, damn hero rescue that isn't quite as cheesy as it should be.

* * *

 

 _In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die_  
_And where you invest your love, you invest your life_

                                                                          -'Awake My Soul' by Mumford & Sons

 

* * *

 

It started with a cough.

Lots of people had been coughing lately. The days were getting colder, the nights were lasting longer. Just the other day there had been frost on the ground when Bellamy woke up, though it had thawed within the hour.

They’d been struggling to keep up with the cold, and keep everyone properly clothed. There just simply wasn’t enough clothing and all of their clothes from the Arc were worn so thin from generations of use that they couldn’t keep out the chill. Bellamy had forgotten what it was like to be truly warm, and he longed for the long summer days that he’d once complained about being too hot.

Along with ill preparations, their food supplies were dwindling. Animals were fleeing the cold. They’d seen birds migrating, and others had disappeared into holes for hibernation. The gardens that they’d tended to and yielded small crops were dying, and the soil was getting hard. Nothing new would grow.

People from the Arc knew how to survive with little. They were gathering lots of firewood, and they would stay warm with fire. They were survivors, and they would band together to persevere.

Then the sickness started. Sniffles, here and there, runny noses that led to sore throats with small innocent coughs. There was always a strain of flu running amok on the Ark, and with proper quarantine methods and antibiotics it was easily dealt with. Often it was best to just let it run its course.

They’d done the same; isolating the sick from the main population. Given them food, water and fire, but they’d only gotten sicker. And then others started getting sick. It spread quickly, in various stages, throughout the camp.

Octavia was recovering from mild frostnip—she’d been out hunting, clutching her sword tightly in an uncovered hand and when she’d returned it had taken hours of Bellamy and Lincoln rubbing her hands warm before she could let go of her weapon. She’d been in medical for a day, and seemed healthy enough when she left.

She was eating breakfast, showing the new wrapping on her hands that would help protect her fingers, when she coughed. Bellamy and Lincoln’s heads snapped up, but she waved them off.

“Probably just from being in medical for a little while. But I’m strong, don’t worry about me,” she grinned.

Octavia was strong, Bellamy knew. She was one of the strongest people he’d ever known, and he loved her more than anything. It was this love that was also his greatest weakness sometimes. Because he would do anything to save her.

When one of their elders, one of the first to be sick, passed away that afternoon, Bellamy was the one Chancellor Griffin sent for.

“If we don’t start medicating, more people are going to die,” she warned in a hushed whisper.

“But it’s a cold, why can’t we just get over it? Like on the Arc,” Bellamy asked. He wasn’t convinced the elder had passed away due to the illness just yet. It was marginally warmer inside the medical bay, and he flexed his fingers and toes to make sure they were all still there.

Abby shook her head, “We’re not on the Arc. We’re exposed, cold and all somewhat malnourished. And it’s only going to get worse as winter goes on. We need better shelter, and more food. And medicine.”

“How am I supposed to find medicine out here?” Bellamy asked, “I’ll talk to Chancellor Kane, and see if we can’t start cutting down trees. We can probably build a wall to block the wind.”

“I don’t know,” Abby sighed, “but if we don’t start changing things, people are going to die. It’ll start with the old, and the younger children. Their bodies are most susceptible. And then it’ll move to those who are healthier. Maybe they can fight it off, but if any of them cripple their immune system in any way—an injury, exposure or starvation—they could just as easily die.”

Bellamy thought back to Octavia that morning. Her stiff fingers still regaining feeling, and her little cough. Her eyes had been glossy. Would she be one of them? Would Bellamy lose her to something he couldn’t fight? He felt a chill go through him, colder than any wind or frost that had ever touched him.

“I’ll find something,” he promised Abby, “I’ll keep everyone safe.” 

 

* * *

 

It was Lincoln who finally suggested it. Another elder had passed away. People were scared, hovering close to the fires and refusing to go near the medical bay or the sick hut, placed right on the edge of camp.

“Why not take the mountain?” his gaze was on the horizon, towards Mt Weather, “it can hold all of your people, and it will be safe. You will be sheltered there, and you can grow food and keep it stored.”

Bellamy felt the collar around his neck, and the chill of hundreds of faces burning away, all because of him. He took a breath to steady himself before answering.

“I don’t think it’s right… we lost so many there. And we left the dead there. It’d stink, and would just have bad memories.”

“But they’re just memories,” Lincoln insisted, “the dead are dead, and the living will soon join them if you don’t think of something.”

“I’ll think on it,” Bellamy said, “maybe we can take supplies from them. They had a lot of medicine. And clothes. We can use that.”

He didn’t want to admit he was afraid to go back to the mountain. He didn’t want to talk about how it haunted him, the choices he’d made and the people he killed. Or how it scared him that he’d do it all over again if he had to.

Octavia collapsed that evening, pale, glossy-eyed, and coughing. She was sick. 

 

* * *

 

It took at least eight hours to get to Mt Weather. Bellamy was determined to make it in half the time. He had a list from Chancellor Griffin of the sorts of medicine he needed, and was accompanied by Chancellor Kane, Miller and three of the guards. They were all slowing him down. His baby sister was sick, his people were getting sick because of his indecisiveness, and he was going to change that.

The woods were cold, and the floor was littered with leaves. Weak sunlight shone through the large gaps in the canopy, though the coniferous trees remained bright and green. Bellamy’s breath steamed in the air that morning, curling around his face every time he spoke to his team. They were some of the healthiest people in the camp, and they had to get to Mt Weather, get inside and take all the medicine they could possibly carry, and return. It was to be a day trip. No one wanted to spend a night in the mountain, or outside of camp when the night temperatures dropped so low that you couldn’t stop shaking if you were caught outside.

They’d been walking for a few hours now, at a fast pace. Bellamy was breathing hard. His nose was numb, and his cheeks stung with cold. He was several feet ahead of the group, determined to keep the pace so that they would have to stay with him. Octavia’s face, sick and miserable, kept flashing through his mind. He couldn’t lose her.

“Bellamy,” Miller gasped, “you—you have to slow down!”

“Keep up, if we slow down more people will die,” Bellamy ordered.

They were nearing the river that marked the edge of their boundary with Mt Weather. Once upon a time, months and months ago, Octavia had been injured here. Jasper had been impaled on a spear. It had been warm.

There were thin sheets of ice collecting in pockets of water between the rocks. It took a breath to melt them, or overturning a stone to dislodge them. Bellamy had read of places on Earth where the winter was so cold you could walk out for miles onto the sea. The sea was too far away to know if that would be the case here, but Lincoln assured them there would be lots of snow, and many rivers and even waterfalls would freeze over.

His team was taking a quick rest. They were eating some of the dried meat they’d brought, and drinking the water. There wasn’t enough time to make a fire for warmth, and everyone was cold now that they weren’t moving. Bellamy had his hands tucked into his armpits and was wiggling his fingers, trying to get circulation in them.

“It…” Bellamy cleared his throat, and tried to sound tougher than he actually felt, “it’s not going to be pleasant in there. We left the bodies where they were, and they’ve started decomposing by now. Animals may have been drawn in, so be alert. There could still be dangers even though the people are dead. We go for the medicine, and any food or clothes we can grab, but the medicine is our priority this trip.”

They all nodded nervously. Bellamy half expected someone, even himself, to make a joke. That was typical, to laugh in the face of danger and to pretend like you weren’t afraid. It made everyone else feel braver, stronger even. He couldn’t think of anything funny to say. Inside the mountain were over 300 people that he’d murdered. Him and Clarke.

Sometimes, in Bellamy’s dreams, Clarke killed them all herself. He would watch her and think ‘how could anyone be such a monster?’ and in other dreams he was standing in Mt Weather, drill in hand, and on the operating table was Lovejoy’s son looking up at him and crying for his father.

‘I have no other choice,’ Bellamy would whisper, and then press the drill to the boys skin.

“Monty said that snake thing that attacked them before might be hibernating,” Miller said, interrupting Bellamy’s thoughts.

“Or, we just go up to the crossing point,” Chancellor Kane suggested.

Bellamy shook his head, “If we had a larger group we’d use the cross point, but it’s too far out of the way. This is the fastest way into the mountain, and we have a small group. We’ll use the rope to swing across.”

Bellamy wanted to be the first across the river. Mostly so that he could start walking and let the others catch up, but the guard insisted on going first and making sure the other bank didn’t have any nasty surprises.

Kane and a guard—a man a few years Bellamy’s senior, named Isaac—were testing the strength of the rope before Isaac swung across. Everyone else was paying attention to their surroundings. It was second nature now, on the ground, and everything was dying off so there was hardly any cover.

They should have been more on alert. Bellamy should have known better.

One moment Isaac was preparing to swing, the next there was an arrow through his shoulder.

“Get down!” Kane shouted.

The other two guards had their guns up, and Westley fired a shot in the direction the arrow had come from.

“We aren’t here to steal from you!” Bellamy shouted, “we don’t want to fight—show yourselves!”

“No Skicru under the mountain!” a voice shouted from somewhere in the trees above them.

Bellamy kept his hands up, “Come out! We don’t want to fight!”

He could hear Isaac groaning as Kane tried to help him.

_Fwip_

Another arrow, through the throat of Westley. A spray of blood littered the rocks as the body fell.

“Run!” Miller shouted, “get out of here!”

The Grounders, unseen, were still shouting at them. 

“Kill the Skicru!” echoed around them, from many different voices.

Bellamy spun in a circle, keeping his stance braced. Where were they? Where was the next attack coming from?

“We are going to the mountain!” he shouted, “we need medicine! We don’t want to fight you!”

Danica, the last guard, still had her rifle ready to fire. She was doing frantic turns, trying to spot someone.

“There!” Kane shouted, pointing.

Someone was darting between trees. Bellamy forced himself to stay calm, there were people running through the trees. Surrounding them.

“Put down your weapons!” he ordered, “we’re here in peace!”

Danica ignored him, took aim, and fired at the runners. Two arrows hit her—one through her shoulder, and the other in her side. She dropped her weapon and collapsed.

A woman dropped out of the tree twenty paces away. Bellamy didn’t recognize her. Her face was covered with an iron mask, and she wore thick furs that made her appear larger than her frame was. She approached confidently now that they didn’t have any guns pointing into the trees.

“Skicru will not have the mountain,” she snarled.

Bellamy kept his hands up, “We’re here for medicine. Our people are sick.”

Four other grounders seemingly materialized out of the woods. Two more were across the river, all of them had arrows notched and ready to fire. Bellamy should have paid more attention. They were trapped and they were all going to die because he had been so obsessed with moving quickly.

“Please, we need the medicine. I’ll go alone—my people will go back to our camp,” Bellamy said, speaking quickly but softly. He addressed the woman who had spoken last, assuming she was the leader. Grounders often had women in charge, so he hoped it was a good guess.

“None of your people will see the mountain,” she replied, “unless they are dead.”

“Why?” Bellamy snapped, “what good is it to you?”

“Too many questions,” she dismissed him, and waved at her warriors. All of them, save the two across the river, lowered their bows and put their arrows back in their quivers.

The leader drew her sword and Bellamy instinctively put himself between her and his people. He could see her brown eyes through her mask, though he could not read her face to know what she was thinking.

“We’re no threat to you, we don’t want to fight,” Bellamy insisted, “I’m sure we can talk this out.”

“Take their guns. Leave this one alive,” the leader ordered, gesturing at Miller.

“No!” Bellamy shouted.

The four grounders drew their swords in one movement. Bellamy dove for the leader in front of him to take her weapon. Kane threw himself towards Isaac’s gun, twisting to get a clear shot. One of the grounders grabbed Miller, kicking him in the knee to force him down. Danica was screaming. Isaac was being pinned to the ground with a boot.

The leader punched Bellamy in the nose so hard he saw stars. He reeled back, and let his body drop just in time to avoid the swing of her sword. He kicked out at her ankle, desperate to unbalance her on the rocks. She fell, stabbing at him and just sliced his thigh through the material of his pants.

Bellamy grabbed her wrist and rolled towards her, trying to break it if he could. She shouted in pain, and the sword clattered to the ground. There was a thick, wet chopping sound behind him and Bellamy didn’t have time to know what it was. He couldn’t hear Isaac or Danica, but Miller and Kane were still shouting. They were still alive.

He scrambled for the blade, fighting the strong hands dragging him away. The grounder grabbed him by the knee and twisted, rolling her entire body into the motion. He felt his muscles straining to the point of breaking, felt the handle of the sword, and kicked with his other leg as he grabbed it. He caught her in the face, she let him go. His foot was numb and his knee ached. Bellamy didn’t know if he could stand on it but he didn’t have time to find out. He forced himself to his feet, trying to kill the grounder while she was still down.

Someone kicked out his bad knee from behind him and his leg crumpled. Hands fisted in his hair and yanked back as a knee drove into his spine, exposing his throat. The leader was rubbing her throat where Bellamy’s kick had hit her. Bellamy’s arm was wrenched behind his back, his wrist twisted until he dropped the sword. He struggled to get away from them. Miller was babbling, begging for his friends not to be killed.

“Stop!” an unfamiliar voice shouted.

All heads snapped up.

There, in a patch of sunlight just down the bank, stood Clarke. She had a small bow with an arrow drawn, pointed at the fighting group. Her hair looked like a golden halo, and even though he was seeing two of her at the moment, Bellamy thought she was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen.

“I am Clarke Griffin of Skicru, and I demand you let my people go!” Clarke ordered.

Bellamy heard the scared gasps from the grounders around him. The leader remained focused on Clarke, but the others glanced nervously between her and Clarke.

“Mountain slayer,” the leader hissed. She turned to her people and barked an order. The hands holding Bellamy released him and he tumbled forwards into the dirt, catching himself on his good arm. He turned to take a survey of his people. Miller was still sobbing, laying in the dirt. Danica was bleeding from her arrow wounds, and on her knees with a sword resting in the nape of her neck. Kane was covered in blood, but he was sitting up and looked unharmed. Isaac, beside him, was dead. His head had rolled towards Bellamy and Isaac’s wide, blue eyes were staring up at Bellamy, unseeing.

“Get away from them,” Clarke ordered, and Bellamy realized she’d moved closer. The grounders looked terrified by this eighteen year old girl. It was almost funny.

“Skicru cannot enter the mountain,” the leader repeated, though she didn’t sound as sure as when she’d addressed Bellamy.

“On whose orders? It’s not your territory,” Clarke replied.

“ _Heda_ has ordered it,” the leader said, “we will not let any Skicru into the mountain. Any who cross the border shall die.”

“The Commander? Lexa?” Clarke asked, “what business does she have with the mountain. It’s of no use to you.”

“The Commander has ordered it. We will obey,” the leader replied. She was adjusting her grip on her sword, likely thinking about attacking Clarke.

Clarke lowered her bow, pointing it at the ground but not releasing the draw on her arrow, “Tell Lexa that we need to talk. Immediately. Until then, we will go back to our camp. You will leave us alone.”

The leader let out a hissing sound, clouds of breath poured out the sides of her mask, and Bellamy wondered if she was barring her teeth.

“We will hold the border,” she finally said, “no Skicru will cross. Return to your camp immediately.”

“And Lexa?” Clarke prompted.

“I will tell the Commander that the Mountain Slayer seeks audience,” the leader said.

Clarke didn’t look phased by the title. She nodded, once, and slid her arrow back into the quiver on her hip. The leader turned to her people and barked an order at them. They all sheathed their swords and stepped back, putting themselves between Bellamy and the medicine that Octavia needed to survive.

Bellamy pushed himself to his feet. His knee hurt and was probably sprained, and his entire arm ached. There was blood in his mouth, he realized, from his nose. He spat it out and gingerly touched his nose. It smarted, but it didn’t feel broken. Small mercies, he figured, turning to look at the blood pooling in the rocks from Isaacs beheading. It was melting the ice in the small pools at the edge of the river.

Kane was helping Danica to her feet, and Miller was still on his hands and knees, shaking.

Clarke reached Miller first, “Come on,” she said softly, “on your feet. It’s a long walk home.”

Bellamy surveyed the scene. Should they leave Westley and Isaac’s bodies? It would take them longer to get home if they had to stop to make a travois to carry them. And Danica was injured. She would probably need to be carried as well. What was the right choice?

The right choice would be to regroup later, with more firepower. Walk away and live to fight another day. But his sister—and everyone else—were depending on him. Bellamy turned to look at Mt Weather. It was so close. If he ran, he might be able to make it. Octavia needed him.

A hand grabbed his shoulder, and when he turned it was to see Clarke’s worried face.

“We have to go,” she ordered, “can you walk?”

Bellamy’s tongue felt heavy in his mouth with words he wanted to say. Protests he wanted to voice, that he knew wouldn’t work. He didn’t want to speak so he nodded. He let her pull him away from what was surely a suicide mission.

His knee protested, but it was manageable. Kane and Miller were supporting Danica. Clarke moved over to inspect the arrows.

“We can’t remove them, but I’m going to break the shafts so that they don’t catch on anything,” Clarke instructed.

Danica was hyperventilating, and Kane cupped the back of her neck to turn her face away. He started talking, about nothing in general, to keep her distracted.

“Bellamy,” Clarke ordered, “come hold this.”

Bellamy followed the familiar tone of her voice, gripping the arrow in Danica’s shoulder tight to the base. He used his other hand to steady her shoulder. She was shaking. Miller had moved out of his way and was hovering nervously.

Clarke pulled a knife from her belt and held the arrow near the fletching with her other hand. She didn’t say anything as she brought the knife up, and Kane gripped Danica’s chin tightly to keep her looking away as Clarke swung down. Bellamy didn’t even flinch as the knife broke the wood inches from his fingers. Danica screamed, and while she jerked Bellamy grabbed her around the middle, holding the second arrow just as he’d done the first and Clarke moved with him to snap the second.

Danica sagged into Kane, and Bellamy had to move quickly to help keep her standing. His arm protested, aching to the point his fingers went numb and he couldn’t get a good grip on her.

“Miller,” Clarke ordered, “we need you here!”

Miller jumped into action, taking over for Bellamy. Bellamy cradled his bad arm to his chest, favoring his better foot. Clarke was still talking to Danica. Bellamy glanced around, his mind hoping that he could spot a break in the grounders’ defenses and that he could make a run for the medicine.

The grounders had vanished, but he could still feel their looming presence. They were hidden in the woods again, watching his group closely.

“Danica can walk, and we’ll probably move faster while she can. Now how about you?” Clarke interrupted his thoughts again. Bellamy turned back to focus on her. Her hair was very bright, and her eyes were very blue. She was also very dirty, and might possibly have a scar on her right cheek that hadn’t been there before.

“Bellamy?” Clarke asked, “how hard did you hit your head? Are you concussed?”

It suddenly dawned on Bellamy that Clarke was real. She was right here, in front of him, and she was _alive_. There had been talk in camp that Clarke was never coming home. She’d left all of them and had gone to die alone in the woods because she couldn’t handle what she’d done in Mt Weather. Bellamy had always kept hope that she would return, but it was months later now. Seasons had changed and he’d thought that one day they would stumble upon her bones, and yet here she was right in front of him.

He pulled her into a fierce hug. More accurately, he stumbled with a sudden onset of dizziness right into her arms.

“Probably a concussion,” Clarke confirmed. Then she hugged him back. “I missed you too,” she whispered.


	2. Clarke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it back to Camp Jaha. Clarke gets a welcome party, just not the one she was expecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alas! S3 has started and I am nowhere near finished this fic! But, good news everyone, it appears that I’m either secretly a member of the writers who create the 100, or I’m actually a prophet and can see what’s going to happen on the show before the episodes air because so far eps 1&2?? Have been so close to what I wrote that I actually debated quitting this story because they were so similar. That being said, I love this story too much to not keep writing.   
> I’m rewriting some things and changing some plot points around now so my story doesn’t seem like I’m point-for-point rewriting s3, so I can’t promise when the next chapter will come. I’m going to try updating at least once a month, if not every two weeks!   
> (I want to point out that I had the grounders calling Clarke ‘Mountain Slayer’ before the show did! Which means I got here first, haha!)  
> This chapter is similar lengths to the first, as everything is still being set up in the story. I promise that there is only more content and excitement to come! Thank you to everyone who left feedback, I love getting responses from all of you!
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: Emotions. So many of them. Mentions of blood and past trauma.

The trek back to Camp Jaha took less time than Clarke expected. Danica, with Kane and Miller’s support, had been able to walk for a few hours. She’d collapsed from shock less than an hour ago, but Kane insisted that he would be able to carry her the rest of the way.

They’d left the bodies of Isaac and Westley on the border. It would have taken them too long to transport everyone. Clarke promised herself she’d make a trip back eventually to give them a proper burial.

Bellamy had managed to shake off the most worrisome symptoms of his concussion, though Clarke didn’t envy the headaches he was probably going to be having for the next few weeks. He was limping on his sore knee, and the hours of walking weren’t helping, but she felt it was a mostly superficial wound, as was the cut on his thigh. The same for his wrist, though he continued to cradle it rather than jar it. His nose had stopped bleeding, though was tender to the touch and so he hadn’t wiped away the blood running down his chin. It was more familiar to see him in blood then to see him clean, Clarke mused. She wasn’t sure how to respond to that kind of thought.

Between Bellamy, Kane and Miller they’d all explained the situation to Clarke. Her people were sick, her mother was worked to the bone trying to care for all of them, and they were ill-prepared for the winter. This had been a mission to get medicine from Mt Weather to help fight the illness spreading through the camp. Clarke debated the possibility of her being able to slip through the grounders undetected, but realized quickly it would be impossible. Bellamy would also insist on coming with her—Octavia was sick, he’d said—and he would just slow her down with his injuries.

It was strange, being back with her own people. They didn’t speak much except for Clarke to explain that she would talk about her experience with a group, rather than over and over again—and she was thankful they respected that. It could also be that they were too tired and traumatized from Isaac and Westly’s deaths to want to make idle conversation. Being alone wasn’t much louder, but the noise of living creatures kept surprising her. The scuff of feet in the litter of the floor, the labored breathing and Danica’s groans that were timed with the sway of Kane’s pace.

She felt… happy. She hadn’t expected this sort of peace. Weeks of solitude and her own thoughts had let her come through several stages of acceptance, and with winter on its way she’d felt it was time to return to her people. Clarke was whole, and at peace with the things she’d done. She was ready to lead again, and take care of everyone.

The situation with the grounders was troubling. Clarke had hoped that after the alliance the grounders and her people could live in peace. Lexa’s betrayal had blindsided her and…

Clarke let out a slow breath. She was beyond that pain now.

Even with the betrayal, she had thought that maybe the two cultures could coincide. They’d spent enough time together to gain some respect, maybe some friends among the different sides. Apparently she’d been too hopeful—or, more realistically, Lexa continued to be a poison that destroyed any and all attempts at peace.

She was looking forwards to seeing her mother again. And all of the others. Raven, Octavia, Monty and Jasper. Even Lincoln.

They had to stop and let Kane rest every hour. Danica was still breathing well on her own, and her heart rate wasn’t abnormal for someone in pain. They were lucky the arrows hadn’t been poisoned.

Bellamy hadn’t really looked at her since his initial hug. Clarke figured it was due to his minor concussion. She hadn’t necessarily expected to see him again in such harrowing circumstances, but then again filthy and covered in their own blood was how she remembered most of their days together before she’d left. She could admit to herself that she’d been hoping for a warmer welcome from him, since he’d tried so hard to make her stay, but she was also glad he wasn’t making such a big deal about it. Clarke hated big public displays, and she knew that was exactly what she was walking into back home. Besides, Octavia was in trouble. Bellamy would block out everything until she was safe.

It was a good thing Clarke was coming home now, she figured. With Bellamy distracted in the way his tunnel-vision love for his sister made him, their people would need another leader with a clear head. The cold made everything seem clearer to her, and it also fascinated her.

So far she’d been able to scavenge enough clothing that she stayed warm, and had a hood and scarf to protect her from heat loss. Her hands were difficult, as gloves were very rare to come by, so she mostly kept them tucked into her sleeves. She noticed that everyone else was wearing gloves—made for the sterile environment of the arc, not life on earth—or wrappings of cloth that still left the fingers exposed. Miller, at least, had wrapped his fingers together so that he looked like he had two thick fingers and a thumb on each hand. It wasn’t ideal, but it would keep him warm and still give him some dexterity.

Beyond the scraps they had Clarke wasn’t sure where they were going to get more clothing to keep everyone warm. She couldn’t think of any other bunkers she’d come across that might have those supplies for them.

The forest around them didn’t change, exactly, but Clarke’s heart began to beat faster. She recognized these areas, remembered her last long walk from Mt Weather. She’d carried a heavy load on her shoulders and in her heart then, and been unable to walk through the gates. Now she could come home, finally, and be among the people she cared about. It took a lot of willpower to resist running ahead like a child. They were still far enough from the camp that it was pointless to split up.

“So are you Chancellor now?” Clarke asked Bellamy. He’d been staring straight ahead, jaw clenched, and she wanted to try and distract him.

“What?” he asked, startled from his thoughts.

“Kane has been letting you take charge all day,” Clarke explained, “did you get promoted?”

Bellamy had fallen silent, staring at her. She wasn’t quite sure why he kept being shocked when he looked at her, “Uh, no. not exactly. Technically Kane and your mom are still Chancellors—mostly your mom. But everyone treats me like I’m one too. It’s weird,” Bellamy admitted.

“My mom’s okay though?” Clarke couldn’t help but ask.

Bellamy finally smiled, “She hasn’t stopped hoping she’d see you again.”

The way he said it made Clarke pause, “Did you stop thinking I’d come back?”

Bellamy glanced away, “It… it’s been a while. And we know what earth is like.”

Clarke focused on the trail ahead, “I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that.”

The trail they were following became more compact and flat, evidence of increased usage. Clarke recognized the bend ahead that meant they were very close to camp now.

“I’m going to get some help,” Miller said, coming up beside Clarke and Bellamy.

“Be careful,” Clarke said, “tell my mom to prepare for two arrows with no exit wounds.”

Miller nodded, and then started jogging ahead of them. He picked up speed as he went. Clarke and Bellamy both turned back to help Kane. He was red-faced and breathing hard, but Clarke could tell he was determined to carry Danica himself.

“Are you sure we can’t help?” Clarke offered anyways, “Bellamy and I can manage carrying her for the last bit.” Bellamy’s arm seemed to be better, and he wasn’t cradling it to his chest anymore. He was probably sore, but he’d survive. His limp was getting better too.

“No,” Kane grunted, “I can do it.”

As if the world were conspiring against him, on his next step Kane tripped over a rock he wasn’t able to see and nearly dropped Danica. Even though she was barely conscious she cried out as her wounds were jarred. Clarke lunged to help steady him, and was relieved when Bellamy joined her.

“Let us help,” Bellamy said. Even though his tone was suggestive, Clarke knew he was giving an order. Kane let out a long sigh and helped Bellamy and Clarke to maneuver Danica into a sitting position between their linked arms. Walking slowed down considerably now as the two of them carefully picked their way along the road. Clarke was thankful for the heat of Bellamy’s hands around her wrists against the chill in the air, and tried to be mindful that she didn’t dig her fingernails into his skin.

By the time the trees started clearing Clarke was working up a good sweat and the chill wasn’t bothering her much, save for her exposed fingers. Neither she or Bellamy were talking to one another, instead focused on breathing, but they still managed to pick a nearly synchronized path, avoiding all pitfalls without accidentally moving in different directions. This kind of synergy was something Clarke had missed while she was alone. She had always been proud of her and Bellamy’s ability to put the past behind them and work together like they had been doing this for years.

People were gathering at the gates already. Three people with a stretcher and four guards with their guns drawn were running out to meet them. Clarke’s breath caught at the sight of the Arc, on the ground, and the place she had come to know as home scattered around it. There were new buildings in Camp Jaha that she’d never seen before, and more fire pits. It looked much more lived in, and she could even see a patch of land where they’d been growing food for the summer.

Clarke recognized Jackson, her mother’s assistant, as one of the men with the stretcher. His face was almost comical when he recognized her, but he went right to work. Clarke and Bellamy lowered Danica onto the stretcher, and Jackson led the stretcher back into camp, while beginning to inspect the arrow wounds.

As they walked the final yards up to camp, Clarke teared up at all of the faces she recognized. It was overwhelming, after weeks of nothing, to see so many people at once. She didn’t think there was a more beautiful sight. People were openly staring at her, in complete shock. Clarke wasn’t sure if it was her presence that was so startling, or the realization that two of their people had died.

Her mother burst out of the crowd with a shout, and ran forwards to meet them before they got through the gate. She was crying, and Clarke didn’t realize how emotional she was until she was in her mother’s arms and hugging her so fiercely her hands were shaking.

“You’re home,” Abby was sobbing, “you’re home, you’re finally home.”

Clarke was babbling too, blinking back tears. She let herself have this moment, and let herself feel all of the emotions that came with it. How relieving, she’d found, to feel emotion and let them pass through her. Blocking them out wasn’t worth it, but neither was being consumed by them.

Finally Clarke pulled back, “Mom, you have a patient you need to see.”

Abby wiped the tears from her face, though she didn’t once take her eyes off of Clarke, “Jackson can manage on his own.”

“Mom,” Clarke said fondly.

Abby laughed, and nearly started crying again, “Okay, okay, I’ll take care of Danica. Don’t you go far, okay? I need to be able to find you when I’m done.”

Clarke nodded in response, and Abby pulled her in tight for one more hug.

Her mother left for the arc, where they had the medical supplies, with Kane following her, and Clarke was standing alone. Not entirely, she realized. There was a large crowd looking at her with wide eyes.

“We were attacked by grounders,” Bellamy explained loudly. Clarke almost jumped. She’d forgotten he was there.

“They are keeping us away from the mountain,” Bellamy continued, “we’ve asked to speak to the Commander, and I’ll make sure we get what we need. It might take longer than we expected, but we’re strong, and we will survive.”

He gave a quick nod to signal the end of his speech and then walked towards the far east end of the camp, not towards the Arc. Clarke assumed that was where Octavia was, though she was sure she remembered Bellamy and Octavia building a home in the west side of the camp. She’d have to check up on him later, or remind him to get to medical to be examined.

The crowd dispersed, with several people giving Clarke side-long glances and looking away quickly when she noticed them. They almost seemed… mistrustful. She’d been expecting a much warmer welcome. Clarke let out a huff. This was good, this was exactly what she wanted. To slip back into regular life without drawing too much attention. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she wanted a little attention. Just not _too_ much.

Karma was listening, because she heard her name being called. Monty, with Miller and Raven behind him, were running across the yard. He hit her without attempting to slow down, and engulfed her in a hug so tight she couldn’t breathe.

“You’re alive! You’re alive!” Monty shouted, babbling other excited nonsense. He was even tearing up a bit. Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. She was so excited to see her friends again.

They finally let her go just as Raven got to them. Raven was smiling, but there was something in her look that said she wasn’t as happy as the situation called for. She folded her arms across her chest and leaned away, making it clear she wasn’t going to hug Clarke like Clarke was expecting.

“Hey,” Clarke offered tentatively.  

“Hey,” Raven nodded, “I can’t… I can’t believe you’re here.”

“You thought I was dead too?” Clarke forced herself to laugh, “apparently a lot of people did.”

“It seemed to be the only explanation for why you left us without even saying goodbye,” Raven snapped.

Clarke had expected some people to be mad at her for leaving, but she didn’t expect it from Raven. Her sudden mood shift rocked Clarke back onto her heels.

“I… I’m sorry,” she said, “but I couldn’t be here. After what I did, I needed to take care of myself.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed your vacation,” Raven said, “some of us didn’t have that luxury.”

“Raven!” Monty pleaded.

Miller finished Monty’s sentence, “Clarke’s alive, aren’t you happy?”

Raven huffed, and then nodded, “I’m glad you’re back,” she admitted, “I am. But you really pissed me off by abandoning us like that, Clarke. I’m not going to be over that just because you came back.”

It was entirely unfair, but Clarke had always appreciated Raven’s honesty. She nodded solemnly, “Okay, thank you.”

Raven nodded, and then turned on her heel to head back to wherever she was needed. Clarke felt embarrassed. Almost more than anyone she’d been looking forwards to seeing Raven again. They shared a convoluted history, but Clarke trusted her and thought of Raven as a good friend. Raven’s anger felt misplaced, and Clarke wasn’t sure how to make her feel better without groveling. Which was something she would never do, and Raven would probably hate her if she tried.

Jasper skulked out of the crowd. He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and he looked so much thinner than the last time Clarke had seen him. Her stomach lurched. The last time they’d spoken had been over Maya’s dead body. Jasper didn’t look like he was faring well at all. His eyes were dull, and while everyone on Earth always looked like they needed a bath, Jasper seemed like he was long due for any form of personal hygiene. He’d even let a beard grow in—as much as a 17 year old boy could grow a beard at least, but the patchy hair gave him an even more haggard appearance. He nodded in acknowledgement but before either he or she could think of what to say, Monty cut in again.

“Are you here about the sickness? Do you have an idea of how to cure it?” Monty asked.

Clarke shook her head, “I just got filled in on everything. I was on my way back when I ran into Bellamy and the others on the border.”

“Where did you go?” Monty asked.

“Everywhere, nowhere,” Clarke explained, “I didn’t have any destination in mind.”

Jasper finally spoke up in a weak voice, “Clarke… why did you go?”

Clarke looked away from him, “Like I said… I… I couldn’t come back. I’d done terrible things and I couldn’t live with myself. I couldn’t bring that weight and darkness home with me. I just needed to figure out how to let it all go.”

“We needed you,” Jasper said softly, “Raven was right. You did abandon us.”

Clarke didn’t know how to have this conversation. She wasn’t sure how to talk about Mt Weather to Jasper without having to relive the fact that she’d killed the woman he loved. And all of their allies in the mountain. Everyone in the mountain. She could hear the sound of her footsteps in the silent corridors, filled with burning bodies.

“I’m assuming you’re staying with your mom,” Monty said, startling her out of her memories, “she’s moved since you left. We can show you where that is.”

“Where are Bellamy and Octavia staying? Bellamy needs to get his head checked,” Clarke asked. Plus, since Octavia was sick Clarke wanted to have a look at her and see if there was anything she could do. Besides, while Octavia had been furious at Clarke at the end of the war, Clarke hoped that maybe she was the only person who understood that Clarke hadn’t abandoned them.

“She’s in the sick tent,” Monty explained, “well, it’s more of a hut, really. But we can’t go there. This flu is really contagious, and only medical staff are allowed in.”

“What about Bellamy?” Clarke asked.

“Medical staff and Bellamy,” Monty amended.

Miller cracked a grin, “Yeah, they tried to keep him out and he nearly broke the guys arm. It was kinda awesome.”

“Oh,” Monty remembered, “and Lincoln. He says he’s had this flu before, and since his immune system is the most suited to the environment your mom is letting him stay in the tent to help take care of everyone.”

“Which way is it? The sick bay?” Clarke asked.

“Sick hut,” Monty corrected, “and it’s over there, but your mom actually lives this way.”

“I want to visit the sick first,” Clarke said, “if this is as bad as everyone’s saying, they’re going to need my help.”


	3. Bellamy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavia has a secret. Bellamy keeps the peace. Clarke faces the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as of ep 3.07 this fic now goes from slight-au to wishful-thinking au. I'm heartbroken. ):
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's left a lovely comment, and I hope that you continue to enjoy the story!

“You look like shit,” Octavia whispered from her bed. Her voice was hoarse from coughing, and she was as pale as she’d been back on the arc when she’d had to live under the floor and never got any UV light. It scared Bellamy to see her like this. He was used to the bronze summer glow of her skin.

“We can’t both be beautiful,” Bellamy smiled weakly, to avoid jarring his nose, “wouldn’t be fair to everyone else.”

Octavia smiled briefly, and that was as good as her laughing. She turned away from him to cough into her arm. Bellamy pressed the cold rag to his nose again. It was finally no longer so tender he couldn’t touch it, though it still smarted if he pressed too hard. The cloth was stained with all of the blood that Bellamy was half-heartedly wiping off his face. Abby said that once the swelling went down he might be a little bruised, but otherwise his nose would be fine. He’d have to drop by medical every morning to keep an eye on his concussion though, but the Chancellor was confident that it wouldn’t be much of an issue save for some headaches he was probably going to be suffering. Bellamy could handle headaches.

Octavia rolled back to face him and he handed her a cup of water.

“Thanks,” she said, “and don’t kid me. You’re totally beautiful. Me, on the other hand…”

She made a weak gesture to herself. Pale and sweaty, with glossy eyes, matted hair and a nose so red it almost glowed.

“You,” Bellamy gripped her hand so she’d look at him, because he meant it every time he said it, “are the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. No matter what.”

“You’re biased,” Octavia smiled again. Her cheeks flared red with blush and she pulled her blanket up to her nose, “I think most people would disagree. Right now.”

“Lincoln,” Bellamy called. Octavia reached out to slap at his knee as Lincoln looked up from where he was pouring tea for an older man, “who’s the most beautiful girl in the world?”

“Clarke!” Octavia shouted in shock, sitting up, startling both Bellamy and the woman who had been sleeping on a bed nearby.

Clarke had just walked into the hut, and her face lit up at the sound of Octavia’s voice. She made a direct line for them. A few of the sick around them struggled to sit up to see if it truly was _the_ Clarke Griffin returned.

Clarke stopped just short of Octavia’s bed, and suddenly looked nervous.

“Hi Octavia,” she said softly, “how… it’s good to see you.”

“You’re alive?” Octavia gasped, and she turned to glare at Bellamy, “why didn’t you tell me?”

Bellamy held up his hands, palms out, “I was about to, but you’re too chatty, O. It’s hard to hear myself think.”

Octavia held out her arms for a hug, “Clarke, come here, I can’t get up.”

Clarke still looked apprehensive, “Are… are you sure?”

“Shut up and let me hug you,” Octavia snapped. Clarke moved forwards, but had to pause to let Octavia have another coughing spell. Bellamy handed her another cup of water to sip when she was done.

Octavia held Clarke as tightly as she could, and Clarke squeezed her but was careful to be gentle. This close she could probably hear how Octavia’s lungs rattled every time she breathed, and how her breath was wheezy.

“It’s really good to see you,” Clarke said. She was blinking back tears. Bellamy wondered why.

“Where have you been? What kept you so long?” Octavia asked.

Clarke shrugged, “I… well, a bit of everywhere. I just kept walking, until one day my head felt clear and I knew it was time to come home.”

Octavia’s brow furrowed, “You were alone?”

Clarke nodded, “Yeah.”

Bellamy recognized the signs of anger on his sister, and knew he had to let it run its course. While she occasionally listened to him, Bellamy knew how to pick his battles.

“Why didn’t you come back? Why did you leave us? We all thought you were hurt—or worse—or someone was holding you hostage? Clarke, we needed you!” Octavia’s voice was rising and a few people around them lifted their weary heads to watch what was happening.

“I… I’m sorry,” Clarke said softly. She looked stunned. Bellamy figured he’d be pretty upset if he was someone used to compliments and friendly greetings, to be suddenly getting the opposite. Not that Clarke was conceited in that way, he knew better, but sometimes little bits of her high class upbringing showed through and Bellamy felt, very deep down, a little bit of pleasure that she was experiencing the other side of the spectrum.

“Hey, O,” Bellamy put a firm hand on her shoulder, “get healthy and then you can do this, okay? While you’re bedridden you’re forbidden from fighting.”

“You can’t enforce that,” Octavia grumbled, but she let him manhandle her back into her bed. Bellamy tucked her blanket around her shoulders to make sure she stayed warm.

“I know of a few herbs that will make your tongue swell,” Lincoln said as he approached.

Clarke turned to greet him, and threw her arms around his neck. He awkwardly patted her back. She’d probably forgotten how he and his people didn’t do these sorts of public displays of affection, except for with Octavia. Clarke pulled back sheepishly, but Lincoln was smiling at her anyways.

“You couldn’t make me eat them,” Octavia growled. She was mumbling, and probably falling asleep again. Despite appearances she was in-and-out of sleep lately, “I’d fight you.”

“I’d sit on you until you admitted defeat,” Lincoln said fondly. He moved past Clarke and brushed strands of Octavia’s hair out of her face. Her braids were messy and looked like they needed to be re-done. If she was still awake later, Bellamy would come back and do them for her. Octavia smiled as Lincoln kissed her brow.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get that medicine soon,” Bellamy assured his sister, “just tough it out a little longer.”

“A little longer and I’ll be on the mend,” Octavia snorted. Bellamy hoped that was true.

Bellamy caught Clarke’s gaze and nodded to outside the hut. She followed without another word. Both of them stopped to wash their hands with the hot water kept by the door.

“I didn’t realize it was that bad,” Clarke said, keeping her voice low so no one would hear her.

Bellamy’s stomach lurched, “Is it that bad?” he asked.

Clarke nodded, “There’s more people sick than I thought, and even though you said she was sick, I didn’t expect her to be…”

“So weak?” Bellamy offered.

Clarke met his gaze, and Bellamy hoped she couldn’t tell how scared he was. He’d never seen Octavia this sick before. People were dying from this flu.

“We need the medicine. Mt Weather will have it for sure,” Clarke said instead, “and then we can give everyone a fighting chance. Octavia’s one of the strongest fighters I know.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner was calm. Clarke and her mother had continued their hugging and, on Abby’s part, crying. Some other people joined in, and at one point Clarke had a small group of people gathered around to hear about her adventures alone.

Bellamy was interested in joining, but figured he’d hear enough of the stories in the next few days. Besides, if there was anything interesting Clarke would tell him herself. There was a peace to her that hadn’t been there before she’d left. Bellamy was glad she’d found whatever she was looking for. He looked forwards to working with her and being able to bounce ideas off of her again.

He was grateful she was safe, and that she’d come back. Part of him had hoped that she’d bring an answer with her—a solution to their problems because that’s what Clarke did best. That had been wishful thinking. He had the Commander to worry about now, and needed to figure out why Lexa would be trying to keep them from the mountain. And how to convince her to let them in. Or maybe he could put together a small strike unit to get in undetected. There still had to be plenty of hidden entrances to Mt Weather. He and Lincoln might be able to go in the cover of darkness. If anything happened to him, at least the Arc would have Abby, Kane and Clarke.

“I can’t believe she came back,” Bellamy heard in a hushed whisper behind him. It belonged to a middle-aged woman who used to smile sadly at Bellamy while he was working as a janitor. As if she couldn’t imagine a worse fate than sanitation crew.

“That’s some nerve, coming in and thinking she can just be leader again,” her partner, a woman with short black hair who never looked Bellamy in the eyes, even when handing him their trash, said. Both of them had no problem looking at Bellamy now, eyes filled with awe and wonder. Bellamy didn’t say anything. People were always going to talk about any major event. It was true, part of what they were saying. Clarke had left them when they really needed her, but Bellamy understood why she’d left. Their anger would blow over eventually.

Raven wasn’t sitting with the group around Clarke, and though Monty was sitting by Clarke’s side, Jasper was staying with Raven. The far-away, haunted look had come back to Jasper’s face. He was probably reliving Maya’s death, even though he’d supposedly put it behind him weeks ago.

Surviving was difficult, Bellamy reasoned. They had to put a lot of things behind them. Things no normal people would even think of getting over, if they wanted to live to see tomorrow.

Bellamy wasn’t feeling especially hungry. He’d lost two men today, and his sister was still sick. He ended up leaving the main fire early to go back to the sick hut.

Octavia was drinking a foul-smelling tea. She looked more alert than she had been before.

“Hey good looking,” Bellamy greeted.

She rolled her eyes as he pulled up his chair beside her bed, “Stop it.”

Bellamy decided not to tease her and changed topics, “Is that dinner?” he gestured to the tea.

“Yeah,” she grimaced, “but it makes my throat feel better. And my head. I can actually breathe through my nose right now—no, woops, not anymore,” she sighed dejectedly, “thank god, or whoever, for Lincoln. I’d probably be dead without him.”

Bellamy’s heart skipped a beat when he thought she was talking about the flu only. But he realized she meant since they had encountered him.

“Yeah,” he said, keeping his voice from shaking at the thought of losing her, “he really cares about you.”

Octavia bit her lip and glanced around, checking on who was listening. Bellamy had just seen Lincoln getting food, so he wasn’t in the hut.

“Bell,” Octavia said conspiratorially, “I love him.”

“I’m happy for you,” Bellamy had already known this was the case, but it still made him smile to think about his sister being this happy.

“No, you don’t…” she glanced over her shoulder again, “I want to marry him.”

Bellamy’s eyes went wide and he was pretty sure his eyebrows hit his hairline.

“What?” he asked, adopting the same secretive whisper she had, “are you serious? O, that… that’s amazing! Are you sure?”

She was almost glowing, grinning ear to ear.

“Yeah,” she admitted, “I… I honestly can’t imagine anyone else who could possibly make me feel the way he does. Do you think the Chancellor would let us—because he’s… and I’m…”

“I’d make sure your request was approved,” Bellamy assured her, “but are you sure? That’s a huge decision, O. Are you prepared for that kind of commitment?”

Octavia nodded, “I want to be able to call Lincoln my husband and I want everyone else to finally know just what he means to me. I want people to look at you, me and Lincoln and be jealous of our family.”

Bellamy’s throat was tight with emotion. People spent their entire lives on the arc hoping that they might one day find someone they loved enough to marry for the rest of their lives. Who would have thought that a little girl from the poorest district, an illegal child, would have beaten the odds and was ready to commit her life to love. He was just lucky to have known her.

“First marriage on earth,” Bellamy said, “of the people from the Arc, at least.”

“First marriage between Skaikru and Trikru,” Octavia reminded him. She studied his face and burst into giggles, “you look like I told you I won a thousand ration points. What are you thinking?”

Bellamy tried to shake the dopey grin off his face, but he couldn’t help himself, “I’m just thinking about where we started, and how far we’ve come. How far you’ve come. People lived their whole lives on the arc wanting to get married, but never finding anyone they loved enough. And here you are, my baby sister, and I believe you when you say you’re in love.”

Octavia wiped away some tears from her eyes and pretended she was just brushing her bangs out of her face, “You’re such a sap.”

Bellamy reached out for her hair, “Can I help with that? I’ve got time.”

“And a _great_ catch,” Octavia said with a grin. She wordlessly shifted so Bellamy could reach her hair easier, “I’m sure there’s someone out there who won’t believe their luck when they fall in love with you.”

Bellamy was busy detangling her braids with his fingers, taking care to be gentle, “You’re quite optimistic, but I don’t know if marriage will ever happen for someone like me.”

Like anyone, Bellamy had grown up with grand stories about love and as a child he’d imagined that he would have a huge wedding. The love of his life would be the most stunning person he’d ever met, and they would be happy for the rest of their lives. After Octavia had been born his dreams had shifted to standing by his sister as she, against all odds, was married. His happiness never changed, and if anything, he was happier this way. There was no way Bellamy could truly love anyone else while his sister existed. There just wasn’t any chance he could love someone as much as his sister, and he only loved her more every day. 

“Don’t be such a downer. You’re a great guy,” Octavia reminded him, “but I get the final vote on whether they’re good enough for you.”

“Deal,” Bellamy agreed, “now, do you want your braids the same, or should I try something different? Maybe something that will be comfier to sleep on?”

 

* * *

 

It was dark by the time Octavia was asleep and Bellamy was able to force himself to leave her. It was hard to tell time based on sunlight anymore. Days were getting increasingly shorter, and colder. His breath clouded his vision as he washed his hands. The camp was still active, though more fires and torches were burning to increase visibility.

Octavia’s secret was a warm presence in Bellamy’s chest. He knew it was cold, but the chill couldn’t quite reach him. His own sister, getting married. There hadn’t been a marriage on the Arc in at least three years. Bellamy wondered briefly if grounders got married, or if they treated marriage the same way the people on the Arc did. That was something he should check with Octavia, so that she and Lincoln both knew what they were getting into. Maybe grounders didn’t marry for life? Stranger things had happened.

His mood fell when he came closer to the fire and saw Clarke defending herself against a small but vocal crowd of people. If she didn’t engage it would blow over faster, but he knew better than to hope for Clarke to always do the smart thing.

“Hey,” Bellamy called as he jogged over. No one had heard him, so he repeated himself louder. The crowd fell into a respectful silence in his presence.

“Clarke’s one of us,” he reminded them, “and she’s here to help. She’s gone above and beyond for all of us, and kept most of us alive.”

“She left us!” someone called from the back of the group.

“The council sent 100 of us here to die,” Bellamy crossed his arms across his chest, “and you don’t see us trying to mob them. We accept the past and move on.”

That seemed to do the job, and the crowd split into smaller groups. Someone spat at Clarke’s feet, but Bellamy knew it would only antagonize them if he went after them for that. It would work itself out in time, as long as he made sure no one got physically aggressive about their opinions.

“Thank you,” Clarke said behind him. She didn’t sound relieved like he’d expected. She sounded meek, and on the verge of tears.

Bellamy turned around quickly, unsure of what he was going to find. Clarke was playing with the long braid she’d tied her hair into. From his extensive knowledge of Octavia, Bellamy knew this was a sign that she was really uncomfortable.

“Why are people so angry at me?” she asked nervously, glancing around.

Bellamy let out a long breath. He tried to pick his words so that he didn’t come across as a jerk, “The first week that you left, I couldn’t stop looking for you wherever we were. I kept a bag packed, and supplies ready and every morning I thought ‘this is it. This is the day I follow after you’ but I never did.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I had a job to do. Our people needed me. They were hurting, scared and recovering. They needed someone to lead them. And as much as I wanted to run away too, I had a responsibility to put them first.”

“I didn’t run… it was never about abandoning them. I have done everything for them!” Clarke argued.

“I know,” Bellamy nodded, “I know what we’ve done. But the difference between you and me is that I stayed.”

“That’s not fair,” Clarke frowned, “I couldn’t… you didn’t have to—”

“Give it time, they’ll get over it,” Bellamy explained, “I don’t know if either of us did the right thing, but we made our choices. The right thing now is to put that behind you, and do the best you can.” 

“Bellamy,” Kane’s voice interrupted them, “we need to talk about the Commander.”

Bellamy looked away from Clarke, “Alright, I’ll be ready in a few minutes.”

“I’ll get Abby,” Kane said, and paused, “Clarke… it’s good to have you home.”

“Lexa is reasonable,” Clarke explained instead of answering, sounding more like herself. She seemed to light up inside, in a way Bellamy hadn’t seen since he’d first seen her that morning: staring down her enemy and protecting her friends, “and she doesn’t have any emotional attachment to her decisions. It makes her untrustworthy but it can also work to our favor. You can treat this negotiation like it’s a brand new—”

“Clarke,” Kane said softly. He paused to think, and Bellamy knew what he was going to say before he spoke, “I… you just got back. Maybe you should go rest.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes as what he was saying dawned on her.

While Bellamy did respect Clarke’s opinion, and knew she was more than capable to lead, she hadn’t been around for months. Things changed. She didn’t know the whole story, and she needed time to get familiar with the dynamics again. She was also the one who had trusted Lexa, and been blindsided by her betrayal. Clarke had led them through a great and terrible war, and Bellamy was now trying to guide them into peace. Clarke would be a benefit, but with lots of their people angry at her it wasn’t a good idea to just welcome her back into leadership so suddenly. It was stupid, but it was how they had to maintain peace in the camp.

“You’re right,” Clarke replied, but he could hear how angry she was, “if you need any insight or advice, you know where I’m staying.”

Kane nodded, guilty, and left to go find Abby.

Bellamy watched Clarke walk away. He’d get Abby to talk to her after they were done and see if she had any further advice.

 

* * *

 

The echo of hoofbeats alerted them to the riders, just moments before they cleared the trees. The sound danced around in Bellamy’s head, aggravating the headache he’d woken up with. Two men on horseback, covered in furs that made them twice their actual size, galloped down the road that led to Camp Jaha. Bellamy realized that they must all be switching to winter clothing. The riders had brought a third horse with them.

They waited outside the camp without speaking. Bellamy thought he might recognize them from Lexa’s guard, but he hadn’t spent enough time among them to know better.

He, Abby and Kane had been up half the night trying to come up with all sorts of arguments they could use against Lexa, and to try and determine why she wanted to keep them out of the mountain so badly. Abby was sure that Lexa wanted to let them all die slowly, while Kane was hopeful that it was merely a show of power. Clarke hadn’t had any more helpful advice. Bellamy had met her in the weak light of dawn in Abby’s home, where no one would know he was asking her for advice. Her disdain for Lexa was obvious, but she was doing a good job of trying to hide her bias like the rest of them.

Bellamy and Kane were the only two to leave the gates to greet the riders. Bellamy trusted Kane in a fight, but also to keep his head and not do anything drastic to start a fight. Abby was too much like her daughter, and spoke her mind or made ultimatums that they had to keep. It made them good leaders, but they also made Bellamy nervous in dangerous situations like this. He wished he could take Clarke with him, but with Clarke and Lexa’s history he wasn’t sure if he could trust Clarke to not let her emotions get the best of her.

“Where’s the Commander?” Bellamy called out to the riders, “why won’t she show her face?”

“The Commander sends a horse. Our camp is a short ride from here. She welcomes the Leader of Skaikru for peaceful negotiations, and your Leader shall be returned tonight,” one of the men answered.

“How can we trust her?” Bellamy replied, “two of our people were killed yesterday. We didn’t even know we were fighting.”

“The Commander has said that your Leader will understand. And that she is open to negotiating a blood price for the lives lost with the Leader.”

That was good, at least. Maybe Lexa’s people had acted out of line. Bellamy was prepared to walk into the grounder camp alone if it would mean getting medicine for his sister. So long as she didn’t know where he was going.

 “Where is your Leader? Is she prepared to leave?”

That caught Bellamy by surprise. Were they talking about Abby?

“She?” Kane inquired.

“ _Heda_ awaits _Klark kom Skaikru_. Where is _Wanheda_?” the rider asked.

There was no way the people gathered at the gates hadn’t heard that. Lexa, and subsequently her people, still thought Clarke was in charge. They obviously hadn’t known she’d left them for months.

“She’s tending to our sick,” Bellamy replied before anyone could say anything, “will you give us a few minutes to get her ready?”

“I’m ready,” Clarke announced behind him. Bellamy closed his eyes and counted to three before he turned around. The Griffin women needed to stop interfering where they weren’t needed.

“No,” Bellamy told her, and nodded to the side. Clarke starred him down stubbornly and Bellamy had to persuade her to step aside with him, with a firm grip on her wrist.

“Just a moment,” Kane said to the riders behind him, “we had planned on sending Bellamy as our envoy, not Clarke. Will that be okay?”

“The Commander sent this horse for _Wanheda_. _Wanheda_ is who shall ride with us,” the rider replied.

“What are you doing?” Bellamy hissed.

“Helping,” Clarke insisted. Abby was running out to join their emergency meeting. Great. Now they were creating a spectacle in front of _everyone_. So much for looking like a united front.

“You’re not,” Bellamy informed her, “now think of a nice way to turn this down so I can talk to Lexa instead.”

“Lexa requested me,” Clarke insisted, “I have to go. Otherwise she’ll be insulted and won’t listen to us at all.”

“We can’t just be at her mercy,” Abby said, “we should send Bellamy instead, to prove that we don’t obey her.”

And because Clarke only just came back, Bellamy thought to himself, Abby wasn’t going to let Clarke run off this quickly. Good. At least she’d back him up.

“But we _do_ ,” Kane reminded her, “in this moment we need Lexa to grant us permission to enter Mt Weather. Clarke’s right, if we start off by insulting her then she has no reason to listen to us. Plus this is a good sign.”

They all, Clarke included, gave Kane surprised looks.

Kane seemed surprised that none of them were following his thought, “If they still think Clarke is our leader, it means they haven’t been watching us. They would have noticed she was gone. This means that Lexa doesn’t want to treat us like the enemy. We should send Clarke.”

“No,” Bellamy said sternly, “what do you think our people are going to say if we send Clarke as our leader? They’re angry enough with her already.”

“Screw them,” Clarke snapped, “I’m doing this to help them. They’ll understand. Besides, Bellamy, do you really want to put the wrong foot forwards when it’s your sister who needs the medicine?”

Bellamy saw red for a moment. He considered punching Clarke right then and there. How dare she use his sister as leverage against him.

“I know how to handle Lexa,” Clarke pressed, talking right to him and ignoring the adults, “I can read her. I know how she’ll respond to things, and I know I can make her agree to let us into the mountain.”

Bellamy honestly didn’t know Lexa well enough, or had spent much time with her to be confident in his abilities next to Clarke’s, “She did betray you, and you didn’t see that coming.”

“She made that decision on the battlefield, in the only time she wasn’t with me,” Clarke explained, “it wasn’t an attack on us, even though it seemed like it. It was just the most logical way for her to get her people out without losing any more. She’ll be expecting us to be angry, and she’ll play us.”

“Aren’t you angry?” Abby asked.

Clarke nodded, “I hate her, but that doesn’t have anything to do with getting our people healthy,” she looked Bellamy in the eyes, “please, let me go. I’ll get it done. I promise.” He could feel himself losing the argument already.

Abby shook her head, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Clarke you just came home, I don’t want you to leave so soon.”

Kane nodded, “Abby has a good point. There’s bad history between you and Lexa, Clarke.”

Bellamy held Clarke’s gaze, “You promise?” It would look like an insult, to his people, that someone who had just come home after months away was being treated like their leader. Bellamy could keep tempers controlled on his end while Clarke handled the dangerous political game Lexa would be playing. She was better than him at that. It might be selfish, to send someone in his place, but he was a little relieved at the thought of not leaving Octavia. His sister came before everything.

“I’ll get it done. What were your negotiation points?” Clarke looked determined. Bellamy knew this look had brought down mountains. He’d been there to witness it. Abby and Kane’s opinions were irrelevant now. He knew Clarke would bring their people to safety.

Bellamy nodded his approval. Abby let out a defeated hiss, but thankfully didn’t argue. Clarke nodded decisively and started walking to the riders, but Bellamy caught her arm as she passed him.

“I know what she did to us,” he said quietly, “but you have to promise me that you won’t kill her.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Clarke admitted, “but I know what’s at stake. She’s heartless… but I’ll let her live. This time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry to keep you all waiting, but I promise Lexa in the next chapter! Yay!!!!


	4. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, I’ve got a question for all of my readers! Now, as a principle, I do try to give a bit of warning for what’s coming in the chapter, because I like people to be prepared if they need to be, but I also don’t like warning because there are a lot of things I want you to be surprised by!
> 
> So I’m polling in advance, and to give a bit of warning. Since this is the dangerous world of The 100, people get hurt and people are going to die. I can promise you a happy ending for our Lexa/Clarke/Bellamy trio (poly is the endgame here, so it will be a happy romantic ending) but otherwise I want you to know everyone else is fair game. Now I’ve already killed off two characters—both OC’s—in the first chapter, so I didn’t bother warning for their deaths. But if/when I do kill off any main characters (as in, named characters from the show?), do y’all need a heads up to prepare for that? And should I be tagging for their death? If I do so I’ll put a note at the end of the chapter, where I’ll put specific warnings, so that if you have to check for any triggers or anything you can jump there and check if you’re gonna be okay, or, do y’all want to stick with the surprise as if every chapter is another new episode?
> 
> I’m of the mind that I want to tag the least amount of spoilers as possible, and I mean I’m already giving away that the ot3 will come out happy so we lose a lot of danger there (but mostly bc I’m sick of getting emotionally invested in poly couples that end up as 2 + a dead one in the end), but I also know it’s important to have a fun reading experience and to not be blindsided by any deaths. I’m not an author who likes excessive deaths, and so every/any death will have importance but I want the tension/anticipation of danger to be very real!
> 
> So let me know what you think, and I’ll figure out a way that works for everyone with the input I get.
> 
> A big, warm thank-you to everyone who’s reviewed this story. You make my day and I love reading your questions or theories about where the story is going! And especially when you point out the things you like!
> 
> See y’all next week!

Riding on horseback never ceased to thrill Clarke. From the moment she had first climbed the intimidating height of the animal all those months ago, she knew that this was something that would make her happy every time she slid into the saddle.  Lexa’s guard—two men she knew from her alliance with the Commander—didn’t speak to her, but led her off into the woods.

Lexa wouldn’t kill her. Not yet, anyways, Clarke reasoned. If she’d wanted to kill everyone, then she had enough force to do so. She wanted something else from them, but Lexa would play it close to her chest while offering something else. Clarke needed to be sharp to pull the rug out from under the Commander’s feet. It might be the only way to save her people.

The thought of seeing Lexa again put knots in Clarke’s stomach. She honestly hated the woman, and how easily she had turned her back on Clarke and her people. Clarke hated her for how easily she could push aside her emotions, and how close Lexa had come to almost making Clarke the same way.

Lexa’s camp was only a few hours away by horseback. There were less tents than Clarke expected, but she figured she was used to the mass of the entire army of clans and not the clan Lexa personally oversaw. They slowed their horses as they approached camp and dismounted at the edge. Another grounder took the reigns and led the horses away to feed and water them. Clarke pulled her face cover down under her chin now that the cold wind wasn’t biting at her face. Her hands, even in her gloves, felt frozen from the long ride.

She steeled herself for meeting with the Commander again. Lexa would try to use Clarke’s emotions against her, but Clarke needed to remember that there was no shame in feeling them. She couldn’t sink to Lexa’s level, no matter how badly she wanted to. Her people needed medicine. They were all counting on her. If she could do this, prove how much she cared for them, then maybe they would welcome her back entirely.

Lexa’s tent was larger than the others. Clarke’s escorts guided her through the camp, keeping any possibly assailants back. They were practically useless. Once anyone caught sight of Clarke, and recognized her, they tripped over themselves to get out of her way. Most of them weren’t faces she knew from her alliance with Lexa, though she hadn’t spent much time getting to know the people. It was startling to think that back then they would have spit on her—if not attacked her—if she hadn’t had the Commander’s protection, and now they ran from her sight. Having a reputation wasn’t such a bad thing, Clarke decided.

She was so surprised by the reactions that she didn’t have time for one last moment to ready herself. One moment she was in the cold, fall sunshine, and then she was in the dark, warm space that looked like it had been recreated from her memories. The table that she and Lexa had spent hours pouring over attack plans and strategy, the maps on the walls that showed the movement of other clans. The table that was always stocked with wine and food. The corner where Lexa had kissed her and the throne where Lexa was currently sitting.

“Greetings, Clarke,” she said. Her voice was like salt in an open wound.

“Hello, Commander,” Clarke replied. She tried to keep her tone neutral.

Lexa rose from her throne. She was wearing her kohl and battle leathers, Clarke noticed. She may be trying to intimidate Clarke, or remind Clarke of the last time they’d spoken.

“Or,” Lexa said, “I should say greetings, Mountain Slayer. Thank you for gracing me with your presence.”

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me.” Clarke had encountered a few stray grounders during her time alone, none of them affiliated with Lexa. But they’d all told stories about her, Clarke—some that had grains of truth, and most were blown so out of proportion she’d laughed herself sick. The stories made her into a great hero, and warrior, and someone to be both respected and feared. She’d seen no need to dismiss the reputation, and was now glad she hadn’t. Her title put her nearly equal with Lexa.

“Would you like some wine? Or food? You must be hungry,” Lexa asked.

Clarke couldn’t believe how civil they were being. She wondered if offering food was a dig at how Clarke’s people were starting to starve.

“No,” Clarke decided, “food and drink are not what I require of you.”

Lexa nodded, though she was watching Clarke intently, “Then let us discuss what you came here for.”

“We need access to the mountain. That is my negotiating point,” Clarke decided to go right for the kill. She wanted to be done with negotiations as soon as possible. The sight of Lexa so close to her made Clarke’s skin crawl, and despite her promise to Bellamy she wanted nothing more than to plunge a knife into Lexa’s cold, dead heart.

“No. I cannot grant that,” Lexa shook her head.

“If you don’t let us into Mt Weather we will die,” Clarke snapped. So much for trying to stay calm, “I won’t let you do that to my people.”

“I can’t let your people have the mountain,” Lexa replied, her voice was deceptively calm. She circled Clarke like a predator, “if you take the mountain then you have the power to hunt us, just like the Mountain Men did.”

“We _won’t_ ,” Clarke argued, “I’ll make sure of it. We don’t need your people—we’re already able to live on the ground without your blood. But we need the electricity, the medicine, and the shelter from winter.”

“I should let your people freeze. You were foolish enough not to prepare for the winter,” Lexa was insulting her, trying to make Clarke feel backed into a corner.

Clarke called her bluff, “Then why don’t you? Why even let us live this long? You want something from us, don’t you? What is it?”

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat that almost had her ask ‘is it me?’. Even she wasn’t that stupid. Lexa may have been attracted to her once, but then the Commander had betrayed them. It made Clarke’s stomach twist anxiously to remember that she had once considered Lexa as a potential romantic partner.

Lexa huffed a laugh, “You think that your people are so important. I have hundreds of warriors at my call. Why would I need anything from you?”

It hit Clarke suddenly, “Because we have medical practices you lack. And we know how to make stronger weapons than your swords. We have knowledge you need—that’s why you haven’t destroyed us yet.”

Lexa growled at being found out. Clarke felt her strength returning. She could do this; she could read the Commander of the Grounder Clans and bend her to save her people. This is what she could do for them.

“If I give you the mountain I have no way of controlling what you do with it,” Lexa admitted, “and you have the potential to become even stronger than the Mountain Men because you can follow us outside. You will also have missiles and you know where to aim them. For the sake of my people I am willing to let you all die so we may continue.”

“There has to be a way to prove that we want to live in peace,” Clarke said.

“I betrayed you in the midst of battle. There is no way you want peace with me,” Lexa said.

Clarke let rage flow through her, and took a breath to temper it. She needed to be calm, she needed to come home with solutions. Bellamy was counting on her. They were all counting on her.

“Yes, you left me alone to face the mountain myself. And I will never forgive you for that. But I got my people out. Without your army, without your help, I toppled the mountain and I killed everyone inside. I’ve had my revenge, Lexa. I’m moving on.” It was difficult, but Clarke forced herself to draw Lexa’s gaze and hold it. Once she had felt strength from this look, and depended on it. Now it chilled her to the core.

“This may be your conviction, but I have already given you a part of our land. If I give you any more, then you are stealing from us. I will be killed for being weak,” Lexa explained.

“There has to be a way for all of us to benefit,” Clarke reasoned, “you lose a lot of warriors to injuries after battle, right? Or to sickness and infection? Mt Weather has a full infirmary. We can heal your warriors or your children, and keep more of them alive. No one has to die from catching a cold at the wrong time.”

Lexa’s gaze flickered between Clarke and candlelight. She sat back down on her throne. It was a show of power—Lexa was the Commander and Clarke was the one seeking audience with her—but it meant that Lexa was feeling the need to reestablish herself in front of Clarke. That meant she might be seriously considering what Clarke was saying.

“You say this now, but once you are in the mountain you could close the doors. We would have no way of opening them and all of your promises turn to ash. I am made a fool and you get the revenge you want—deserting me when I am relying on your support.”

“That won’t happen,” Clarke stressed, “what do I need to do to prove it to you?”

Lexa was silent. She drew a dagger and flipped it between her fingers, obviously deep in thought.

“I must have a way to ensure that the doors are always open…” she mused, “I will have guards, people, inside at all times. And my people must come and go freely.” He voice grew more sure as she spoke, as her mind brought her to some conclusion Clarke couldn’t follow.

“Yes, you will have the mountain for the winters, and your people will show us how to be stronger. We can show you how to be warriors… and together we can fight off any enemy. With a stronghold not even the greatest army could conquer!”

“Are you… talking about an alliance?” Clarke asked.

Lexa stood suddenly, and she was not excited like Clarke expected, but looked incredibly grave instead.

“Yes,” Lexa said, advancing slowly on Clarke and Clarke could only remember the last time this had happened, and how nice the kiss had been when everything was going so well, “an alliance. Our people, Earth and Sky, will come together. We will own the mountain and all of the lands around it. We will grow strong, create new generations of people made from stars and trees. And we can make this happen, Clarke, you and I.”

“You look like you don’t like your idea,” Clarke said slowly, “and an alliance didn’t work last time.” An alliance with Lexa was the last thing she wanted, truthfully. Clarke knew how easily Lexa broke them.

“It is… I am growing old, for a Commander. And I have not taken a _Bond-Mate_ , so this gives us a rare opportunity,” Lexa explained.

“A what?” Clarke asked, “I don’t know that word—or what it means.”

“A union,” Lexa continued, ignoring Clarke, “between your people and mine. As we are leaders of action, it must start with us.”

Clarke’s stomach dropped as her mind finally realized what Lexa was about to say.

Lexa looked like it pained her, but the strength of her resolve was clear as she spoke, “Clarke, marry me, and the mountain is yours.”

Clarke staggered back, clutching at the table behind her. She felt cornered again, and she wanted to run but there wasn’t any air left in her lungs.

“No,” Clarke said softly, and then stronger, “no—you don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

She knew from history that people on Earth had married, divorced and remarried. Some cultures had no issues with this, while others prided themselves on low divorce rates.

Very few people on the Arc ever married. No one divorced.

Marriage was rare and serious—it was binding until death. Clarke had always dreamed of marrying her true love—once upon a time she’d foolishly dreamed of marrying Finn. Until she had murdered him for the woman now asking for her engagement.

“These are my requests. Marry me, and your people survive,” Lexa repeated. She remained a safe distance away, as though she was also aware of how similar their situation was to the time she had once admitted her feelings for Clarke.

Clarke started talking before she could think, the words tumbling out in a panic as her stomach lurched like she was on the drop ship all over again, “You don’t understand, we—my people—we marry once. We marry for love—for life. Our whole lives are spent around creating a perfect family. One full of love and joy—you have to understand that I can’t marry you!”

“You may have had those privileges while you lived in the sky, but you are on the ground now. Life is harsh, and love is weakness. Everything you do is about survival.” Lexa wasn’t looking at Clarke anymore. Clarke understood that Lexa didn’t love her, but she was still reeling from the shock of someone proposing to her for a lifetime of misery.

Clarke’s heart still bled for Finn, and she felt like it would never stop aching. He was long dead, even if she could still feel his warm body, his fading heartbeat and his wet blood in her arms when she slept. Clarke wanted to laugh. What was it Lexa had once said? The dead are gone, and the living are hungry. In this case, the living were sick. And didn’t think Clarke did enough for them. Well, maybe this would finally be enough.

Clarke calmed herself, breathing slowly, and lifted her head to meet Lexa’s eyes. Commanders might not live very long. Maybe Clarke wouldn’t have to suffer her too long. Clarke could continue to break traditions and rules and maybe one day she would marry again, once Lexa was dead. If she ever fell in love again. She wasn’t sure if that was possible for her.

“Okay,” she said, breathless, “okay.”

Lexa didn’t look relieved by Clarke’s agreement either, “We can discuss what sort of ceremony your people will want. I want to do this right away—”

“Hold on,” Clarke said, “I need to talk to Bellamy first—” For all that she’d give for them—her people didn’t see her as a leader anymore. She had to make sure Bellamy would support her in this.

“Why do you need to discuss your decisions with him? Are you having doubts?” Lexa asked, “you are his leader. He should respect your orders.”

Clarke shook his head, “No, Bellamy and I… we’re together—as leaders. We take care of our people together. I have to talk to him before I can make a decision this big—”

“How many Commanders do your people have? No wonder you can’t get anything done,” Lexa said.

“I’m sure he’ll say yes,” Clarke amended, sensing a disapproving tone in Lexa’s voice.

“If I am to trust the leaders of the Skypeople, I cannot be married to only one,” Lexa said, and her face was twisted in contempt for what she was saying, “you both must be tied to me, and I to you, to ensure we have each other’s best interests at heart. Three is considered a blessed union to my people.”

“What?” Clarke asked. Did Grounders actually marry more than one person? Was that even possible? “No, Lexa, _I’m_ agreeing, and I’m sure Bellamy will agree—to me, marrying you I mean. I’m the only one you need to marry. Don’t drag Bellamy into this!”

“My offer,” Lexa said coldly, “the Commanders of _Skaikru_ will marry the Commander of the 12 Tribes. Only then will we have peace, and only then will your people be allowed the mountain.”

“Lexa,” Clarke said softly, “please don’t— I can’t make Bellamy do this. I’ll marry you, but marriages are only between two people. We can’t support a marriage of three. It’s wrong.”

“If you care for your people like I know you do, then you will convince him. He is a good addition; we will be able to have healthy children to continue our line,” Lexa replied, “now go. Talk to your… _other_ Commander. My people will hold the border to the mountain, but we will not hurt you unless you attempt to cross it. I will let you take your time to decide on an answer.”

Clarke curled her hands into fists to keep from shaking. How could she ask this of Bellamy? How could she ask this of herself? They’d come up with something. Clarke would marry Lexa. That had to be enough. She could do that.

“Clarke,” Lexa’s voice stopped her right before she left, “don’t waste time. Winter is coming.” 

 

* * *

 

Clarke rode back with an escort from Lexa. It felt just like before, when they were joining forces to dismantle a mountain and save their people. Now cold dread formed a rock in Clarke’s stomach, and she felt as if she were standing in an airlock waiting to be floated.

Her escort left the horse with her—a sign of good faith—but did not leave the cover of trees for their own protection. Clarke rode up to the gates of Camp Jaha alone. Hundreds of eyes turned towards her, and a crowd was gathered before the gates even opened to let her in. She was forced to dismount to guide her horse through, and thankfully it didn’t spook with the large crowds reaching out to touch the first horse they’d ever been this close to. Everyone was also waiting on her words.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Clarke said, trying to sound confident like she had good news, “I need to speak with him.”

The crowd shifted and moved until Bellamy’s familiar face came out from between two people who had spat at Clarke just last night.

“Well?” Bellamy asked expectantly.

Clarke shook her head, “I need to speak with you, in private.”

“Why? What did the Grounder say?” someone shouted from behind Clarke. She didn’t recognize the voice.

“There are some negotiations,” Clarke said smoothly, trying to ignore the angry looks beginning to form in her direction, “I wanted to discuss things with you before agreeing to anything.”

Bellamy nodded like this was a reasonable request, “Alright, follow me.”

Clarke handed the reigns of the horse to a wide-eyed guard who looked equally awestruck and terrified. She followed Bellamy, not moving to walk beside him like she normally did, but let him part the people and moved in his wake. He was a good friend, she realized, or maybe she hoped. They had become a solid unit, supporting one another and the only people they could each truly open up to. And they both understood that they would do anything to keep their people safe, even sacrifice one another. Could she really ask him to sacrifice his life? His happiness?

The usual crowd: Raven, Wick, Lincoln, Monty and Jasper followed them. Normally Clarke welcomed their council and their opinions, but she couldn’t ask this of Bellamy in front of anyone.

“Sorry everyone, but I need to speak to Bellamy alone,” she said, as dismissive as she possibly could so that no one would argue with her.

“Why? Did Lexa say no?” Raven demanded.

“Give us a minute,” Bellamy said, soothing where Clarke had been abrupt. They were still like a well-oiled machine, picking up where the other left off and bringing strength where the other was weak. Clarke’s heart was already breaking.

Bellamy led her into a room on the arc that they had used for strategy planning during the war on Mt Weather. The airlock hissed shut behind them, and then they were alone.

Bellamy sat down, gesturing for Clarke to do the same. Her heart was hammering in her chest.

“I take it that it didn’t go well?” Bellamy asked.

Clarke shook her head, “No, Lexa is willing to give us the mountain. And to live in peace.”

Bellamy didn’t jump for joy at this news. His mouth turned down and he took a breath to steady himself before asking, “But for what?”

Clarke’s hands clenched into fists on her knees. Could she think of something else to say to Bellamy? Could she go back and try to convince Lexa otherwise? She’d tried to make Lexa understand that marriage was sacred, among two people, for her people. Lexa was set on this, and Clarke knew that without any more leverage she didn’t have a chance of changing the Commander’s mind. Maybe Bellamy could think of something she wasn’t seeing.

“A union…” Clarke started slowly. The words tasted like ashes in her mouth, “between our people. Us and the Grounders, living together and sharing the mountain.”

This should have been wonderful news, but Bellamy just looked sicker, “For what, Clarke? What does she want?”

“Marriage,” Clarke spat out, and steeled herself to meet Bellamy’s eyes when she said, “between the leaders of the people. You and I have to marry Lexa.”

Bellamy was completely still, staring at her, but she couldn’t get a read on what he was thinking. He was in shock, she realized, his mind racing to understand exactly what Clarke had just said to him. She didn’t dare interrupt him, but didn’t break his gaze.

One moment he was sitting calmly, and she thought he might be taking the offer well, and the next he was out of his chair and punched the wall with such force Clarke worried about him hurting himself.

“That’s what you came up with?” Bellamy snarled, turning to face Clarke, “that’s your negotiation skills? I let you go there Clarke because I knew you would get the job done! But now this? This is the best you could come up with?”

“I didn’t ask for this!” Clarke shouted back, rising to her feet. In public she couldn’t fight for herself, but here, among equals, she knew she could, “I fought Lexa on this as hard as I could, but we don’t have anything to force her to change her mind! I even bargained for just myself. I didn’t want this for you!” Clarke’s voice betrayed her, and she swallowed loud sobs, turning away from Bellamy’s rage.

“Does she… does she even know? I mean, how do Grounders marry? Is it even for love?” Bellamy’s voice was soft, like he was trying to apologize for yelling. Or like he was accepting his fate.

Clarke pinched her inner elbow to ground herself in the pain, “No. I… at least I don’t think so. At any rate this… this wouldn’t be for love. And between three of us. I didn’t even know that was possible.”

Bellamy sank back into his chair, looking more and more defeated, “There has to be another way.”

“She said that she’s going to maintain the border on Mt Weather, but if we don’t cross it then we won’t be hurt by her people. Lexa is afraid that we’ll become worse than the Mountain Men if she allows us into Mt Weather. I tried everything I could think of to show that we wouldn’t be, even inviting her people to live among us.”

Clarke couldn’t sit down. It brought her too close to Bellamy and right now she wanted to be as far from him as she possibly could.

Bellamy shook his head, “We’ll think of something else. There is another way.”

“We can take as long as we want to give her our answer,” Clarke said, “but she will let us all freeze to death if it comes to that.”

Bellamy dragged his hands down his face, “Don’t… don’t mention this. To anyone. It was a good idea to talk in private first.”

Clarke nodded, “What… what do you want to tell everyone?”

Bellamy shrugged dejectedly, “What can we tell them?”

“Negotiations are still open,” Clarke said automatically, the words rolling off of her tongue, “Lexa gave us some propositions that were unsuitable for our needs. We’re working on our response and I’ll go back to talk to her soon.”

“That’s good, that sounds good,” he cracked a weary grin, “you were always so much better at that. Sounding like you know what you’re doing, and that everything is fine.”

Clarke forced herself to sit now, and reached out to touch Bellamy’s knee. They didn’t do contact a lot—neither of them had much reason to display this kind of affection for one another—and so it was grounding in an entirely different way from anything else.

“Everything is going to be fine. We’ll find another way. We always do.”

Bellamy’s gaze slipped to her hand on his knee, “I won’t do it, Clarke. And neither can you. We can’t just throw our lives away like that.”

“We’ll do anything for our people,” Clarke reminded him.

“I’ll die for them if I have to,” Bellamy said, knowing full well that Clarke would too, “but I won’t marry her—she’s evil. I won’t live a lie, or marry someone I don’t love.”

Clarke wasn’t even insulted that Bellamy didn’t want to marry her. She didn’t want to marry him either. They worked well together, but they weren’t in love.

They sat in silence together, contemplating all of the scenarios that might lead them to getting Lexa to change her mind.

“Where’s my mom?” Clarke finally asked, looking up, “and Kane?”

Bellamy sighed, “Two more people were put into the sick bay, and someone else died. Your mom and Kane are making sure there are enough beds and that the… body… is disposed of properly.”

Clarke sat back in her chair. Things were getting worse.

“Don’t tell them about this,” Clarke said, “about Lexa’s… we don’t need them distracted by it. We need to come up with better solutions. Just tell them that she wants our guns, and for our people to be under her control. That’s close enough.”

Bellamy nodded, and ran his hands down his face again. He took a deep breath to compose himself and then placed his hands on his knees.

“I should get back,” he said, “people are going to want answers. And we need to deal with the sick.”

“I’ll go help my mother,” Clarke agreed.

“Clarke,” Bellamy stopped her before she stood up, “be careful. People are still hurt from you abandoning us, and now your negotiations didn’t work. They’re going to be angry and upset, because they’re scared, and they might come after you. I know you want to help, but keep your head down as much as you can.”

“I’m not going to hide because a few people can’t understand that I’m human,” Clarke muttered.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt. Whether people realize it or not,” Bellamy explained, “we really need you right now.”

Clarke couldn’t look him in the eyes, but nodded to show she understood. She hated the fact that she was suddenly an outcast among her own people. The hiss of the airlock signaled Bellamy’s exit, and Clarke gave herself a minute to breathe and let her anger drain away before she left to go help her mother.

 

* * *

 

Bellamy took the horse and went to speak with Lexa the next day. They’d decided, since he was now part of Lexa’s proposal, that she’d be willing to speak to him. Clarke was grateful she didn’t have to spend any more time with Lexa then she had to, but she hated waiting even more and threw herself into menial work around the camp and helping her mother in the sick bay.

He had been gone for only a few hours when Monty approached Clarke. She was just fetching some firewood for the fire in the sick bay and he appeared over her shoulder. She nearly dropped her logs in surprise. No one came this close to the sick bay for fear of catching the illness.

“What are you doing—you shouldn’t be here,” Clarke told him.

Monty was shaking, and when Clarke took another look at him she realized it wasn’t because of the cold. He was pale and clammy, and looked like he might be sweating. His eyes were glossy. She gasped softly.

“I was coughing all night,” Monty whimpered, and his voice was hoarse, “I think I’m sick.”

Clarke dropped her wood at her feet and jumped forwards to hug him, “Hey, hey, it’s going to be okay. Bellamy and I are going to figure everything out.”

Monty clutched at her desperately, and Clarke heard him muffling sobs into her shoulder.

“I’m scared,” Monty admitted.

Clarke ran her hand up and down his back, “You’re going to be okay. You’re strong, Monty, and you’re young. You might be back on your feet before you know it. Besides, now you can keep Octavia distracted. I might be able to get some work done if she stops asking me questions all the time.”

The truth was that Octavia was constantly in and out of restless sleep, and disoriented all the time. Her questions had more to do with reassuring her where she was and that she was alive, not wherever her fever dreams had her believing she was.

They pulled away and Monty’s smile was forced, but at least he was trying, “Do you think she’d even talk to me with her boyfriend around?”

Clarke laughed, “Lincoln’s not so bad. Besides, he’s gone hunting for today. But for now… you…” she tried not to sound as grave as she felt, “I’m going to get your bedding, but you have to stay in the sick bay.”

“Sick hut,” Monty corrected her, and they both chuckled at that.

“I’ll let Jasper know where you are,” Clarke said.

“And Miller,” Monty reminded her. Clarke wasn’t entirely sure when they’d become such good friends, but she hardly saw Monty without Miller hovering nearby. Maybe they were dating—though Clarke had always assumed Jasper and Monty were involved. Every time she’d seen Jasper he was wandering about on his own, and wouldn’t look at her.

Clarke nodded, “I’ll tell him too. But you have to promise to kick both of them out if they ever try to come in, okay? I can’t have all of you sick.”

Monty nodded, and reached down for the wood at their feet, “I’ll take this in with me,” he said.

 

* * *

 

Jasper was demanding to see Monty when Bellamy returned. It was just after noon, and with travel time to and from Lexa’s camp, he couldn’t have been talking to her very long. People gathered, asking for answers, and Bellamy was loudly telling them that more negotiations were needed, and that he needed to talk to his council first. They were angry, but Clarke could see that everyone trusted Bellamy in a way that they used to trust her.

Bellamy caught her eye and nodded towards the Arc. She hurried after him, and followed directly to the conference room they’d been in yesterday.

“She won’t change her mind?” Clarke asked.

Bellamy sat down, looking nauseous. For a moment Clarke was worried he was sick, but she quickly realized he was still in shock at the idea of marrying someone for political gain. Worse still, marrying _two_ people he wasn’t in love with. Clarke was still having trouble believing that herself.

“No,” Bellamy finally groaned, “she insists. She’s ready to hold a temporary ceremony tonight, if we want. To prove her commitment until we can arrange proper marriages by each of our customs.”

“What if we gave her the mountain,” Clarke reasoned, “we take the medicine and clothes, but her people can have the mountain. Then maybe she’ll drop the idea that we have to marry—”

The airlock whooshed open and Kane stepped inside. He looked tired and worn, and focused his gaze on Bellamy.

“How did it go?” he asked.

Bellamy was wide-eyed, and Clarke’s heart was hammering. Had Kane heard either of them talking about Lexa’s marriage proposal?

“Not… not well,” Bellamy said slowly, “Clarke and I were just coming up with some renegotiations.”

“What does the Commander want?” Kane asked.

Bellamy looked at Clarke and she read it clearly as a sign of distress. He had no idea what to say.

“Bellamy and I are handling it,” Clarke explained briskly, using the same tone she’d once used to force her mother to submit to her power.

Kane recognized the snub for what it was. He looked confused, and insulted. As he rightly should be.

“Since you and the Chancellor are so busy with the sick,” Bellamy explained, “Clarke and I can handle this issue, if you two can keep our people alive. You don’t have to worry, we’re going to get the medicine.”

Kane licked his lips, but decided not to fight them on this. He folded his hands behind his back. Clarke recognized it as a sign from his time on the council when he’d defer to an opinion he didn’t agree with.

“Alright, but we need that medicine soon. Abby and I will do our best. Remember what’s at stake,” he said.

Bellamy and Clarke both gave vocal acknowledgements to his statement, and then he was gone. Clarke let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“We have to come up with something,” Bellamy said, “I just… we don’t have anything to bargain with, expect for the mountain. And if Lexa takes it, she could use it to attack us, just like the Mountain Men did.”

“Whatever we do, we have to do it soon,” Clarke replied, “the flu is spreading, and starting to hit the healthier people.”

Bellamy turned to look at her, “Who?” he asked.

Clarke bit her lip, “Monty. He’s sick now. I’m worried that Jasper will get sick soon too, since they live together. If the two of them get sick, then it’s likely there won’t be much time before it spreads to everyone. And when that happens, more people are going to die.”


	5. Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polls are in! So in reference to any deaths of named characters from the show, **there will not be any warning!** So please take this message as a blanket warning for the whole story. Just like the show, death can come at any time!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who left a lovely comment, I’m still working on getting back to all of you. I appreciate your comments so much so I want to try and give everyone a personal thank you when they leave a review (:
> 
> Lastly, do not be fooled by the length of this chapter! I know all of the chapters so far have been relatively even in length because as a writer and as a reader I like things being relatively uniform. Unfortunately in writing this story, the starting chapters all averaged around 5k words, but from next chapter onwards they’re all going to be 10k. So I know it’s short! I’m sorry, but don’t worry. Big rewards and big reading next week!

Lincoln hadn’t been able to find much food. A pair of skinny rabbits that wouldn’t have survived the winter, and some roots he’d dug up to make tea to soothe the throats of the sick. Most of the larger animals had migrated from the area. His people often followed them, Lincoln had explained, though when he’d joined Indra’s regiment he’d left his nomadic lifestyle for the sedentary one that many warrior clans used. They liked to stay and defend their territory year-round, compared to the more peaceful, smaller clans that moved with the food.

Bellamy had trouble staying positive for his people. Over the next two days at least five more people moved into the sick hut. Everyone was thin and hungry. They all eyed each other at any odd sound, afraid it was a cough or sneeze or some symptom of the flu.

Bellamy was overwhelmed assuring people that he was close to sealing a deal with the Commander.  That couldn’t have been further from the truth. He and Clarke were struggling to come up with anything. They’d spent their days helping Abby and Kane with the sick, trying to determine how to make their food supplies last longer, and their nights were spent wracking their brains for anything they could give Lexa to let them into the mountain.

Lincoln had gone to the border and assured them that it was heavily guarded. Not even he could make it in and out undetected.

Clarke had ridden out to meet with Lexa again, the day after Bellamy had gone. She’d returned with the same news. Lexa refused their gift of the mountain—it was already hers—but it could be theirs as well if Clarke and Bellamy married her. Clarke had even tried to offer the mountain, _and_ Clarke herself as a bride, without Bellamy, but Lexa had refused. It was both of them or nothing.

They couldn’t understand why she was so determined for them to agree to her proposal. Bellamy could barely comprehend the idea of marrying someone you didn’t love. He suggested that Lexa was probably insulting them—she’d abandoned their people in their time of need, and if they married her she was going to become their ruler. Clarke explained that Lexa wasn’t petty like that, but Bellamy didn’t believe anyone could be that emotionless. If he knew anything about people, especially people with power, it was that they loved to show off that power.

Clarke couldn’t see any answers either, though. More people meant more mouths to feed, which was dangerous with the upcoming winter. Maybe Lexa’s clan was migratory and wouldn’t be around all winter, or maybe they had enough food stored that they weren’t worried about a few hundred more mouths to feed. 

In any case, neither of them could see what Lexa gained from the marriage that she wouldn’t get from what Clarke and Bellamy could just offer to her. Which meant there was no way for them to change her mind.

The early hours of Bellamy’s day, or the latest hours of his nights—it was hard to tell the difference anymore, it was always cold and varying stages of dark— were spent with Octavia. She was getting worse, and spent most of her time asleep. He had a chair beside her bed so he could keep an eye on her, and watch her shivering form while she sweated and coughed. She’d always been a still sleeper, from years of sleeping in a confined space, and so it was strange to see her so agitated in her sleep. One night Bellamy was so tired he crawled onto her cot with her, and held her as her teeth chattered and her legs tangled up in her blankets while she kicked.

Abby had woken him up when one of the patients started loudly complaining about the two of them sharing a bed. Bellamy always forgot that some people didn’t know he and Octavia were siblings, or just flat out refused to believe they were related. He and his sister got a lot of strange looks nowadays, or complimented on their happy relationship and asked how long they’d been together. It created a lot more confusion when Lincoln was with them. More than one person had accused Octavia of dating two people at once.

“Delusional,” Abby whispered in explanation, “he doesn’t know what’s going on around him.”

Bellamy got up anyways, stretching out his sore back. Octavia didn’t wake up, and her breathing was ragged and shallow. He hoped she’d slept better with him around, that maybe he’d helped her in some small way.

“How are things going with the Commander?” Abby asked.

Bellamy put on the same optimistic face he wore for everyone these days, “We’ll have negotiations settled soon. The medicine is coming.”

“Okay,” Abby nodded. She looked like she wanted to argue with him, but then a middle-aged woman leaned over her cot and puked on the ground. Bellamy busied himself helping Abby clean up and ran to get something the woman could be sick into. At least they had nausea tablets to give people.

In the medical bay, Clarke and Jackson were busy treating people with hypothermia symptoms, or frostnip or frostbite. More and more people were getting injured every day from the cold, and more of those people quickly became ill. It was a bad cycle that Bellamy couldn’t find the answer to make it stop.

That was a lie. There was an answer, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Clarke had been willing to do it. The thought that she’d been so willing to throw her happiness, her entire life even, away for her people made Bellamy feel ashamed. He loved his people, but he wouldn’t do that for them. He probably wouldn’t have even pulled the lever in Mt Weather if his sister hadn’t been in danger. For all the times that everyone said he was a good leader, he only had to look at Clarke to know that wasn’t entirely true. He’d do whatever he could for his people, but only if it didn’t put his sister in danger.

Clarke and Bellamy had agreed to keep Lexa’s proposal between the two of them, even hidden from Abby and Kane. The two Chancellors knew that Bellamy and Clarke had practically overthrown them, and it was a huge sign of their trust that they didn’t fight. They trusted that Clarke and Bellamy knew what they were doing, and that they wouldn’t let their people down. The two of them always came up with some way to save the day.

Even with this agreement between them, Bellamy had secretly hoped Octavia would be awake enough for him to talk to her. She was the only person he trusted to understand him, and to have insights on Lexa that he and Clarke might be missing. Monty, who was also getting increasingly worse, informed Bellamy that Octavia spent most of her time asleep and was often too tired to carry on any sort of conversation. The sick hut was too crowded as it was to have any sort of a private conversation, anyways.

Kane had mentioned to Bellamy his thoughts about potentially building a second sick hut to make more room for all the people falling ill. There weren’t enough beds as it was, and some people were sharing and others were just curled up on the floor. More people were going to die if Bellamy couldn’t think of something, and his brain kept going back to Lexa’s proposal and freezing.

For now he had Raven and Wick working on a way to stabilize more segments of the Arc, or at least to have them safe enough to be heated and lived in. If his people had warm shelter, it would mean a better chance at surviving winter. He hadn’t commented on the fact that Raven kept having to pause and blow her nose, or that Wick was looking paler than usual.

* * *

The third day after their last meeting with Lexa, a week after the initial proposal, Bellamy skipped breakfast and went to the sick hut. He’d done this for the last two days, and was preparing to make this his routine until his sister got better. He and Clarke were exhausted with nights of coming up with nothing.

There was shouting coming from the tent—it was usually loud with coughing or retching, but not with shouting. Bellamy broke into a run and burst inside. Abby and Lincoln were over Octavia’s bed, and Abby was shouting orders. Monty was saying something, Bellamy couldn’t hear him because he was so focused on his sister.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy almost tripped on someone laying on the floor as he raced to Octavia’s side.

They had Octavia on her side, one arm stretched out so her hand hung off the end of her bed, and the other tucked under her chin. She’d been sick on herself, and on her bed. She wasn’t awake and Lincoln was wiping away vomit from her mouth.

“What happened to her?” Bellamy demanded.

“She started puking,” Monty said. Abby was checking her pulse, and put an ear near Octavia’s face to listen to her breathing. Bellamy’s hands were shaking. He wanted to fight something, or scare someone into making his sister better, but there was nothing anyone could do unless they had medicine.

“She hasn’t woken up in at least twelve hours,” Abby said grimly, “but she’s still breathing. She may be in a coma, or just exhausted and dehydrated.”

“Is she going to be okay?” Bellamy asked. Lincoln was watching Abby intently as well, stroking Octavia’s greasy, sweaty hair. Her braids were coming apart again. Bellamy wanted her to wake up so she could tell him what she wanted this time.

Abby nodded slowly, “The vomiting was only dangerous because she wasn’t awake and she almost choked herself to death.  Once Monty alerted us, we got her into the recovery position, and now she should be okay if she’s sick again. But the fact that she didn’t wake up concerns me. How long has she been sick?” Abby glanced up at Lincoln and Bellamy, “a week now?”

Bellamy nodded. His mouth felt dry.

Abby pondered this information without saying a word.

“Once she wakes up, we’ll get some fluids in her. That should keep her going,” she finally said, “and if Monty here doesn’t mind keeping an eye on her.”

“I’m not leaving,” Bellamy informed Abby, “I’ll watch her.”

“No,” Abby said sharply, “you have to finish things with the Commander first. I’m sure Lincoln won’t mind taking watch for you.”

“I will stay here,” Lincoln informed both of them. He didn’t take his eyes off Octavia once.

“Bellamy,” Abby called, and waved for him to follow her outside of the hut. Bellamy’s head felt light, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from his sisters pale face. He’d never seen her so sick. Her cheeks were hollow, and she was so thin his mind rang alarm bells every time he looked at her.

Abby pulled Bellamy aside where no one inside could hear them talking.

“Bellamy,” Abby said, and she was using a motherly tone—not a soft one, but one that allowed no arguments, “I don’t know what you and Clarke are doing, but if you don’t get medicine to us soon, your sister is going to die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dunn! Let me know your thoughts! What’s going to happen? What are people thinking? Is Octavia going to make it? See you next Saturday for chapter 6!


	6. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! The start of the long chapters. There's a lot happening, so buckle in and get ready! There's quite a bit of Trigedasleng in this chapter, and translations are provided at the end of the chapter. For sentences or speeches I'll provide translations, but otherwise I'll either use context or in-story explanations to translate words. Or! Check out [trigedasleng (dot) info] because that's where I get all of my translating help and butcher their dictionary resource (:
> 
> My translations won't be perfect, and I'll probably tweak them as we go, but I think we can all live with that.
> 
> Note: My grounders are a little different than what we've seen in the show. Since I started writing this story before s3 started, I had to guess at a lot of things. So for purposes of this story you'll have to forget what we know in the show and go back to s2 when the grounders are still a big mystery! I have added in some details that the show provided, such as Polis and Lexa's black blood. I'll try to blend the two as much as it makes me happy, but my grounders are a lot more nomadic then the ones in the show. They have to stay on the move to keep the mountain men and other clans from finding them.
> 
> And a huge thank you to everyone who's left a review. I love hearing about your ideas or insights, or when y'all guess what's coming up or just want to scream with me about what happened this chapter. I love it!

Clarke was helping to stock the woodpile for the main fire when Bellamy marched towards her.  His jaw was clenched, and his eyes were bright like he was either sick or about to cry. Her stomach dropped and Clarke felt her throat close up. She knew what this look meant.

People had stopped what they were doing, and were staring as Bellamy strode up to Clarke. He leaned right into her space, making sure no one else would hear what he had to say.

“Get the horse. I’ll do it,” he hissed.

Clarke nodded, stuttered, and took a breath to compose herself, “What changed? Why?”

His jaw clenched tighter, and it looked like it hurt him to say, “My sister.”

Clarke’s heart broke for him. Bellamy’s greatest weakness, and it was playing him right into Lexa’s hands. She tried to keep her voice even, “Pack lightly. We’ll get there before dark.”

Bellamy’s hands were balled into fists, knuckles white and shaking at his side. Neither of them broke eye contact. He was furious, Clarke realized, and was desperately hoping there was some other way. He was trapped, and he knew it, by how much he loved his sister and Clarke wondered in this moment if he was wishing he loved Octavia a little less. Or if she’d never been born.

He broke away just as quickly, pulling back like he’d been burned. He looked like he might be sick and Clarke didn’t blame him. She felt the same way.

Clarke handed her firewood off and raced for her home. She needed gloves, and a scarf for her face. No change of clothes, that would weigh them down. They didn’t need food. They could get to Lexa’s camp fast enough, and Lexa would feed them once they were her guests. Besides, it was better to not take any food from their people if they didn’t have to.

Instead she went to the horse, tied to a post at the edge of camp because they didn’t know what else to do for it. She felt bad. It was skinnier than it had been when Lexa gifted it to her, but still strong enough to carry both her and Bellamy. Hopefully Clarke could leave this horse with the Grounders, who would know how to properly care for it.

Clarke realized that she could learn how to care for the horse. The Grounders would be her people too.

There was chatter behind her, and Clarke saw Bellamy heading towards her. Their people were recognizing the signs of travel, and knew there were very few places Clarke and Bellamy would go together. Bellamy didn’t respond to any of the questions directed at him.

“Do you need anything else before we go?” Clarke asked as he got closer. She took his small bag so that she could tie it to the saddle. Bellamy nodded, and glanced over his shoulder at the crowd starting to gather.

“Wait outside the gates,” he ordered, “don’t talk to anyone. I’ll be right there.”

Bellamy’s mood was easily interpreted by everyone, and to Clarke’s surprise they stepped out of his way without protest. She went back to work fitting the bit into the horses mouth, and undoing the lead from the post so that she could lead it outside. Whether it was the horse, or Bellamy’s mood carried over, everyone left her alone as well and she left the camp without protest. It hurt her heart, a bit, that no one was curious enough to ask her where she was going. That no one seemed to care enough about her whereabouts.

Until she heard her mother’s voice, and saw her moving quickly towards the gate.

“Clarke?” she called, “Clarke what’s going on?”

Clarke bit her lip and cursed karma. If this were a normal scenario, she should be ecstatic to come home with the good tidings of her engagement. Her mother would be overjoyed, and they would both cry with joy. But she couldn’t say anything, not right now.

“Last negotiations,” she said instead, “Bellamy and I want to make sure everything goes smoothly. We’ll be back soon. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Clarke was proud of herself for keeping her voice so level. She was so good at lying, not even her mother knew when she was lying anymore. Her mother nodded, though she still looked nervous. She put her sick-mask back on, right after telling Clarke to be safe.

Bellamy wasn’t carrying anything, so he must have been leaving instructions with someone. He rejoined her by the time Clarke had his bag tied to the saddle. He let her take the reins, sliding in tightly behind her and holding her around the middle. He had a scarf around his face as well, to protect against the wind, but he still rested his head on her shoulder to protect himself.

She didn’t ask him if he was sure, just turned the horse and set off at a gallop for as long as the terrain would let them. There were things they needed to talk about, before reaching Lexa, but both of them needed a few moments to themselves to say goodbye to their hopes for a happy future. 

* * *

They arrived just after sunset, accompanied by a mounted guard that had joined them a few kilometers out of camp. Bellamy was at the reins now, and Clarke was keeping her face between his shoulder blades in an attempt to get some feeling back into her nose, and to melt the ice forming on her eyelashes from all of the tears she had fought to conceal.

When they dismounted, Bellamy said nothing when she wiped away the traces of her tears. Just like how she had ignored the frozen tear-tracks on his face when they’d switched positions earlier. They hadn’t talked much at all, just to decide on their half of the deal, and the things Lexa needed to agree to before they could commit to the… union. At least, Clarke rationalized; at least she had Bellamy in all of this. They worked well together. They may not love each other, but they had respect, and a good relationship. There could be worse people to marry.

Clarke realized she was _also_ marrying one of the worst people she had ever met.

Someone took their horse—a man who Clarke thought she might recognize, but not enough to know his name. They were assured their possessions would be looked after, and that the Commander was expecting them in her tent. Bellamy’s shoulders were so tight it must have been painful. Clarke was tempted to reach out and hold his hand. She held herself back—neither of them were overly physical with one another and that would be a comfort that a lover would offer. They didn’t need to pretend here. That would come later.

Light spilled out from Lexa’s tent, making it appear almost inviting in the cold. Clarke steeled herself. Looks were deceiving. The golden, dreamlike glow held a nightmare within, and Clarke was about to welcome that nightmare into every part of her life.

“It’s going to be okay,” Clarke said, both for her own benefit and for Bellamy’s, “at least we have each—”

“I can’t believe you dragged me into this,” Bellamy hissed, breath clouding like smoke out of his lips.

Clarke was struck dumb, and tripped over her own feet. Bellamy didn’t wait for her, but strode ahead.

“No,” Clarke whispered to herself. How could she have been so stupid? Bellamy hated her for this. All of this—the marriage—was her fault. She hadn’t been able to come up with a better solution, and she had known Bellamy would agree to anything if it would save Octavia. Why hadn’t she tried harder to help? To think of something better?

She didn’t have Bellamy after all. She’d lost that relationship when she abandoned her people. Everything since had been about survival, about doing the best thing for their people. But they wouldn’t be doing it together. And that was Clarke’s burden to bear.

She caught up to him just as he reached Lexa’s tent. He didn’t hold the cloth open for her, and she had to dart in quickly behind him.

Inside was significantly warmer, though the chill of winter wasn’t quite banished. Many candles had been lit to light the tent, and furs laid out on the walls to block out drafts. Lexa herself was draped in furs and warm clothing, sitting in her throne and looking like Clarke and Bellamy were inconveniencing her just by being in her presence. Her face was bare of any kohl, and her hair was tied back in her traditional braids.

“You must be cold,” she said, voice low and deceptively soothing, “are you hungry?”

Before they could respond  a young person—gender hard to tell because they were covered head to toe in furs up to their red nose—came in to hand them goblets of something dark and red. It smelled pleasant, but rich, full of so many spices that Clarke couldn’t identify. And it was warm through the goblet, bringing life to her numb hands.

Both she and Bellamy took a cautious sip. It was delicious! Clarke thought she could detect a hint of alcohol in it. It warmed her up from the inside in a way she hadn’t felt since the summer.

Lexa had taken a goblet for herself as well, and seemed happy about the beverage.

“What is this?” Clarke asked.

“Mulled wine,” Lexa said, “it’s a little early in the season for it, but it is my favorite part about winter.”

Wine. That confirmed the alcohol Clarke was tasting. She decided to sip sparingly, just enough to warm herself in case it went to her head.

“We’re here about… your offer,” Bellamy said. He wasn’t in any mood for pleasantries, and Clarke didn’t blame him. She’d been momentarily distracted by the relief of warm wine.

“The marriage?” Lexa prompted.

“We agree,” Bellamy replied, “but we have requirements to our agreement. We need to discuss them with you.”

Lexa looked neither pleased nor upset by this news. She took another sip of wine, and then gestured to the table and chairs at the side, “You look tired. Sit down and we can talk.”

She stood up from her throne and joined them at the table. Bellamy and Clarke unwrapped their headscarves, and slowly unwound the wrappings around their hands. The goblet felt almost too hot to Clarke’s sensitive hands, but she forced herself to hold onto it so she could leech the heat out of it.

“I’m glad you finally came to your senses,” Lexa said, “this is the right choice. Now, let us negotiate our sides.”

“First of all, no one can know this is a political marriage,” Bellamy said, “you have to agree that if we do this, you must convince everyone that we did this out of love.”

“Why would anyone assume we love each other?” Lexa asked, “with the history our people have? That we have? The point of this marriage is to prove we are willing to put the past behind us. It has nothing to do with love.”

“You have to understand our people,” Clarke explained, “we only marry for love. If a marriage is suspected to be about social standing, or gaining power, it is revoked. It’s shameful and considered to not be a true marriage. When we marry, we marry for life. It’s a very big decision. If you marry us, into our culture, you have to be willing to convince our people that this is a marriage of love. They will be suspicious, they’re not stupid, but it will be up to us to convince them. If they don’t believe it then the marriage will be a sham and not recognized by our people and could cost Bellamy and I our leadership.”

“And because it has three people,” Lexa added, “you said your people consider a marriage to be between two people.”

“Yes,” Clarke nodded, “that’s why it’s imperative that they believe we all love each other so much that we couldn’t decide between one another. We are pretty sure we can convince them to recognize the marriage. We can explain that it’s a merging of our customs and yours, but if anyone finds out that we don’t love one another then it will all fall apart on our end.”

“I see,” Lexa mused, “and what do your people consider love?”

“We’ll get to that,” Bellamy interrupted, “but, secondly, after we leave this tent we need to be able to access to the medicine in Mt Weather. Our people are dying because we can’t get it.”

Lexa stared into her goblet, thinking.

“No,” she said.

“What?” Bellamy snapped, slamming his goblet on the table so hard that wine sloshed over the rim and onto his wrist.

Lexa fixed him with a seemingly blank face and intense gaze Clarke had seen on her many times. Right before she killed someone.

Her face didn’t change, but her voice was eerily calm, “I will go to the mountain. You go back to your people and explain what you need to, and I will come to you with the medicine you need. It will be an act of good faith, to endear your people to me.”

“How do we know we can trust you?” Clarke asked, “you broke our alliance at the last moment, the last time you were supposed to help us.”

“Because we will be married,” Lexa answered, almost too quickly. She seemed to realize her blunder, and sipped her wine in order to hide herself.

Clarke’s stomach rolled uncomfortably, and she pushed her wine away. It no longer appealed to her.

“We need the medicine tomorrow,” Bellamy said. His hand was still clenched tightly around his goblet, and Clarke could hear the strain in his voice as he tried to be civil, “because if you can’t, I will go myself.”

“I will do it,” Lexa said, “what about your _fisa_?”

“Our what?” Clarke asked.

Lexa frowned for a moment, trying to remember the words to explain herself, “Healers. Medicine for my people.”

“Everyone will have equal access to medical care, as long as they wish to receive it. Anyone who wishes to learn can study under my mother or her assistants,” Clarke explained. These negotiations almost felt good, familiar even, until she remembered the contract they were signing.

“Our people get first choice of rooms inside the mountain, and your people can have the extras,” Bellamy said, “your people can survive in the winter, and have places to go if they don’t like being inside. Ours need the mountain to survive, and they will need some space.”

“We should arrange them to separate areas, to begin,” Lexa said, “while we are going to be bringing our people together, we cannot force them too quickly. Common areas will be open to everyone, and we will have to enforce strict rules about killing on the premises.”

“There will be no killing at all,” Clarke insisted, “in fact, we should take everyone’s’ weapons at the door. The mountain is practically a fortress, we’ll have lots of warning if we ever needed them. Why not make it more difficult for people to harm one another?”

“My people will object to being unarmed. In sacred places, and in Polis, we have laws against weapons, but you must be able to defend yourself in your own home,” Lexa explained.

“But the mountain is nearly impenetrable. There won’t be any threats to defend from,” Clarke reminded her, “if we let our people feel safe inside the mountain, then they may get along better.”

“That means your guns must also stay out of the mountain,” Lexa said.

“First we have to clear it out,” Bellamy said, “have you been inside?”

“My scouts report that it is a graveyard,” Lexa explained, “they wanted to burn everything, but I will get them working on clearing it.”

“Many of our people will be unable to travel the distance,” Clarke said, “they’re too sick or too weak.”

“If you wait much longer they will all freeze to death before you can enter the mountain,” Lexa shrugged, “when I arrive with the medicine I will see what we can do. I warn you that many of my people see the sick and elderly as weak, and have no regard for them. With your medicine, I hope to start changing those ideas.”

“If you can start clearing out the mountain of… the bodies, then Bellamy and I can start getting our people ready for travel. But we need to be able to live in the mountain when we get there,” Clarke said, “and soon. Even if it’s just one floor cleared, it needs to be ready for us.”

Lexa traced her finger along the rim of her goblet, thinking.

“I can have room cleared for you, provided the dead are not too many for us to burn,” she said.

Clarke shuddered, and decided to sip her wine instead of reply. There were many dead in the mountain. She’d walked amongst the corpses, and stared into the holes of all the faces where their eyes had burned out of their skulls. She saw their faces every time she closed her eyes.

“I have something to discuss,” Lexa continued into the silence, “you would like to have a ceremony in your customs, I assume?”

Bellamy was rigid, with his back straight and his shoulders tight.

“Yes,” he said, before Clarke could answer, “we need a marriage in our customs for our people to be able to acknowledge this… thing as real.”

“As shall my people,” Lexa agreed, and she smiled grimly, “I hope you are ready for many nights of celebration.”

“It will take us time to get a ceremony together,” Clarke said, “so we can’t get married until we’re inside Mt Weather.”

Lexa nodded, “As expected, there is much to do. A union ceremony for myself would also take days to put together. Representatives from all of the clans must come to pay their respects to me and my chosen _houmon_.”

“But will you let us into the mountain even if we’re not legally married?” Bellamy pressed, ignoring the foreign word, “we can’t wait that long.”

“We have a smaller ritual,” Lexa explained, “it is short, and can commence tonight. It will promise each of us to one another in the eyes of my people, and be a means of announcing our intention to marry.”

“Like an engagement?” Clarke asked, and then struggled to think of how to explain herself, “on the Arc it was customary to give jewelry, like a ring or a necklace or something of value to someone you intended to marry. The item was then a way to show that you were engaged to be married—if the council approved your request.”

Lexa considered this information, and then nodded, “Yes, that seems very similar. I do not have small gifts to give to you tonight. We give gifts at the union itself, to display our respect for the other in front of many people. The gifts should be valuable, unless you intend to shame your partner publicly,” her eyes glinted dangerously, “many unions end in death because of poor gifts.”

“We don’t have any engagement gifts for you either, right now,” Clarke replied, “but we can present them, along with a gift from each of us, at the wedding.”

“That is acceptable,” Lexa replied.

“What’s the ceremony you mentioned?” Bellamy asked.

“We go among my people now, and I will announce our intentions to… marry,” Lexa said the word slowly, making sure she pronounced it correctly, “they will gather to watch us declare our union. We will all state that we do it of our own free will, and that we are honored for the chance to unite with others of such high rank. We will uphold the honor of our union and use it to bring our people to greatness.”

“That seems like a lot of words,” Bellamy muttered.

Lexa’s face didn’t change, but Clarke could swear she was smiling, “ _Mafta op ai._ Just follow my lead, do as I do, and you will be fine.”

“And that’s it?” Clarke asked.

Lexa sipped her wine, and her gaze flickered to Clarke’s face as she set it down.

“Yes,” Lexa said, “that is it. My people will acknowledge you both as my intended _houmons_ , and the call will go out to the clans to come pay their tribute. My people will clear the mountain and I will bring your medicine to you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Clarke said, soft enough that she practically breathed out the word. She couldn’t believe she was doing this. This was her engagement night. She’d always thought she would be excited, happy and in love. Eager to tell her mother, her father and her friends about her happiness. Instead she—how had the old Earth texts said it? Instead she was making a deal with the devil.

“As for romance,” Lexa settled back into her chair, “my people will not require romance, but they will believe we are a romantic union if we are physically affectionate with one another, and if we share a bed.”

The thought of the three of them having to share a bed—chills ran down Clarke’s spine as she realized this likely meant sex—disgusted Clarke. She’d rather sleep on jagged rocks then share a bed with Lexa. Bellamy looked like he was having the same ideas.

“Our people are similar,” he admitted, “kissing, touching, and holding hands are all signs of people in love. If we’re married it means we’re expected to live together, so owning only one bed is important. Our people will also notice the way we talk about one another, especially when they aren’t around. This means that we can’t only have the act up for some people. We have to commit to it for life, and all of the time. Unless it’s only the three of us, behind closed doors, we have to make everyone believe we are in love.”

“Your people are so obsessed with love,” Lexa muttered, “maybe they would be stronger if they didn’t hold onto such weak emotions.”

“Talk like that will ruin everything,” Clarke growled.

Lexa turned her head slowly to meet Clarke’s gaze.

“My apologies _niron_ ,” Lexa said in a soft tone that made Clarke’s stomach churn, “I believe your people may benefit from learning about survival from my people. It will make us all stronger in the end.”

Clarke knew Lexa was making fun of her, but Bellamy cut in before Clarke could say anything she’d regret.

“Okay,” he said, and it sounded more like a gasp or a sob, “we’ll do it. Let’s get this ceremony over. We need to get back to our people and announce our engagement.”

Lexa rose gracefully from her chair. She glanced over what Clarke and Bellamy were wearing.

“Is that all your people have to protect you from the cold?” she asked.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Bellamy replied.

Lexa didn’t bother putting on a coat of any sorts, and strode out into the cold air without pause. Clarke and Bellamy followed, neglecting their head scarves and their wrappings for their hands. Clarke’s skin pebbled into goosebumps and the cold seeped into her skin. Lexa’s guard sprang into action, flanking them as Lexa led them towards a large fire in the middle of the camp.

“ _Trikru_!” she called out. All talking ceased. Clarke couldn’t make out much in the darkness except the reflection of firelight in bright eyes. They were all watching them.

“ _Ai don sad klin. Emo ste ain mana houmons_! _Tu heada kom_ _Skaicru_ , Klark Grifin _en_ Belomi Bleik. _Wanheda_ _en_ _Wangona_ : _Maun-de Ripa. Emo_   _flem ai Maun-de_ , _Emo_ _flosh klin honet Maunon_!”

“Wan… what?” Clarke heard Bellamy mutter the words.

She hadn’t heard several of the titles Lexa used, but assumed they were meant to make her and Bellamy sound greater than they were. Clarke had accepted her part in the fall of Mt Weather, but this was probably the first time Bellamy was hearing what the grounders were calling him. She wanted to reach out and comfort him—he’d been adamant about not hurting the innocent people in Mt Weather, right up until he’d been forced to pull the lever with her and burn hundreds of people alive with radiation poisoning. She held herself back though. He’d made it quite clear how he felt about having to go through with this.

She couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt surreal, like she was watching this happen to someone else. Lexa continued her speech.

“ _Ai Leksa, Heda kom Thaukru, Heda kom Kongeda: ai don kep klin trikru we kom Mount-de. Ai sin in eno Maunon—ai kom au hukop ain_ _niron_!”

The grounders cheered loudly in the darkness. Some were beating spears against the ground. There were drums echoing in the night. Lexa turned to face them, and Clarke stepped forwards. Bellamy hovered nervously at her side, but Clarke had never felt so separated from him before. The grounders fell silent.

“Of my own free will, I pledge myself to this union,” Lexa said loudly. She glanced between Clarke and Bellamy, prompting both of them to copy her.

Clarke found her voice first, “Of my own free will, I pledge myself to this union.” She wanted to run away, to take back the words. There was a lump in her throat the size of a galaxy. Looking into Lexa’s eyes, it was all too easy to feel the familiar barrier slide between her and her emotions. It would be so much easier to go through with this if she didn’t feel anything. Clarke longed for that numbness in a way she assumed addicts longed for their habits. She resisted.

Bellamy opened his mouth to speak, choked on his own words, and had to cough to cover it up. He composed himself, and then shouted, “Of my own free will, I pledge myself to this union.”

Lexa nodded, and then continued, “It is my privilege to pledge myself to two people of such high status. They bring me great honor.”

She was speaking slowly, enunciating carefully, and saying everything in English. There was no way her people wouldn’t realize that Clarke and Bellamy were just nervously parroting everything she was saying because they had no idea what was expected of them. Clarke tried to sound braver and more confident then she actually was. She was thinking of her mother, and how she was going to react when she found out Clarke was engaged. Her parents had been married, and yet her mother had betrayed her father to his death. Did Clarke even know what a true marriage was? What she was going to miss out on?

Lexa held up her hands in the firelight, and continued once Bellamy had finished his lines, “And together, our union shall make our people grow strong! _Skaikru_ and _Trikru_ , together!”

Clarke was about to repeat, but a loud cheer rose from the darkness. The entire clan was cheering loudly, celebrating them. They didn’t need Clarke and Bellamy’s awkwardly stuttered repetitions.

Lexa came around the fire and gestured for Clarke and Bellamy to join her. They moved into the firelight, and the heat from the flames was a welcome blessing. It couldn’t reach the cold seeping into Clarke’s soul. She was committing to this, she was doing the thing she’d had nightmares of all week now.

Lexa drew a small knife from her belt, and to Clarke’s surprise, she drew it across her palm. Blood, black in the darkness, pooled up from the wound as Lexa flipped the knife and held it out to them, handle first.

“What is this?” Clarke hissed.

“You wanted romance,” Lexa replied, “ _mafta op ai_.”

Bellamy was the one who took the knife first, and he grunted as he slit his palm open. Clarke did her best not to think about how unsterile the knife was, and instead welcomed the pain as a distraction when she cut her hand. This was going to be troublesome when dealing with the sick. She’d have to be careful to keep it clean or else she could get infected too.

Lexa ran her fingers through the blood on her hand, and then moved closer to touch Bellamy’s face. He jerked back and she narrowed her eyes at him. The clan was still shouting, making an awful racket, around them.

“What are you doing?” Bellamy whispered. But he forced himself not to flinch away as Lexa pushed his bangs away to draw a symbol in blood on one side of his forehead. Lexa then reached for Clarke and Clarke closed her eyes in order to keep still as Lexa drew another symbol—this one was different, she could tell from the sweep of Lexa’s fingers—on Clarke’s forehead.

“For love,” Lexa explained, pointing to the symbol on Bellamy’s head, “and protection,” she finished, gesturing to Clarke’s.

Bellamy and Clarke stared at each other, too stunned to move.

“Copy them onto me,” Lexa ordered quietly.

Clarke took a moment to will her hand to be steady. She took a final look at the mark on Bellamy’s head, the mark for love, and pressed her fingers into the cut on her palm. It stung, but the pain kept her mind clear of the whirlwind of emotions racing through her. Lexa didn’t close her eyes as Bellamy and Clarke drew the symbols in their own blood, and when they were done she told them to copy the last symbols onto each other. It took them some time, and the clan had fallen silent around them. Clarke felt awkward, and her fingers were numb with cold. She had to keep picking open the clotting blood on her hand to get enough blood to finish the symbol on Bellamy’s face.

Lexa’s blood was… _darker_ than hers. Clarke didn’t know what to make of that. Maybe it was a trick of the firelight.

The clan took up their loud cheering again once Lexa declared it done. Blood had dripped into Clarke’s eyebrows and she longed to wipe it away, but knew that was a bad idea.  It had been warm at first, and now was cold and the thought of other peoples’ blood on her skin made her feel sick.

“It is done,” Lexa said to them, through the cheering around them, “now we may part ways.”

Clarke wasn’t sure what to do. Should they say goodbye? Was there a formal way to leave this kind of celebration? Should they embrace? Touching Lexa was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

Lexa stepped closer, right into her personal space. She grabbed Clarke by the chin and kissed her. Right there, in front of all of these people.

Clarke brought her arms up to push Lexa off of her, but just as soon as it had started Lexa moved and pulled Bellamy in the same way. Bellamy’s eyes were screwed tight, as if he were fighting to keep himself from throwing up. Clarke wouldn’t have minded if he’d gotten sick on Lexa. She wanted to vomit right there. Her skin crawled and she wanted to scrub herself clean. How _dare_ Lexa do that to her. She’d known exactly what Clarke would be thinking of by kissing her. It was a dirty, underhanded maneuver and Clarke couldn’t do anything because Lexa could call off the marriage if Clarke offended her.

“I will send you both with a horse and a guard,” Lexa said, as if she hadn’t just violated both of them

“We don’t need anything more from you,” Clarke managed to say through clenched teeth.

Lexa narrowed her eyes, “You are the one who asked for romance. That was part of your agreement. Do not treat me like I am the enemy.”

Bellamy was the better man, and he stepped in before Clarke could say anything else.

“I count the hours until we see each other again,” he said diplomatically.

Apparently not.

Clarke wanted to smile. It was a completely backhanded compliment because Bellamy was actually referring to the medicine Lexa would be bringing. There was nothing Lexa could do if she didn’t want this marriage to end before it started. And they all knew she was desperate to have this marriage happen, for whatever reason.

This was Clarke’s engagement ceremony. Instead of happiness and tears of joy like she’d always dreamed, it felt like a declaration of war. 

* * *

The way home took much longer. Clarke and Bellamy each had an honored guard to protect them, and also to lead them. The path was almost completely black, save for the small amount of light the torches provided. One guard was riding at the front, picking out their path, while the other rode in the back.

Clarke was behind Bellamy, and he didn’t once turn around to talk to her. They were silent the entire ride back, both lost in the choice they had just made and the future they had submitted themselves to. It was the ultimate sacrifice, and if all went well, no one would know they were suffering.

The blood on her forehead was drying, and getting itchy. Lexa had instructed them to let the marks wear off naturally, or else the charms wouldn’t have any effect. Clarke hadn’t been able to tell if she was joking or not, but didn’t want to anger Lexa or her people and have them back out of the marriage.

She felt like she was choking, and it wasn’t from emotion. After the fire, back at Lexa’s tent, Lexa had given them thin, red leather bands. It was the best she could do for a ring, and it would publicly declare the three of them as engaged to anyone that looked. Lexa had tied it around Clarke’s neck, and Clarke was sure she’d made it uncomfortably tight. She had never liked wearing necklaces, even on the Arc. Even if they’d washed off the blood symbols, there was no way anyone wouldn’t notice the chokers.

Lexa had offered for them to stay the night and enjoy the celebrations. Clarke had broken out in a cold sweat until Bellamy had said that they needed to be with their people. Lexa promised to be at their camp with medicine—which Clarke had written down the exact names of—by noon the next day. Now all they had to do was hope their people lasted that long and that Lexa held up her end of the bargain.

It was a lot to gamble, but they didn’t have any other choice.

Camp Jaha materialized out of the darkness. The large central fire was burning bright, aided by other fires around it. Clarke could see the darker side of camp that housed the sick bay. Light shone from the windows of the hut, but the area around it was dark. No one wanted to be near it.

She and Bellamy should have talked out a plan. People would want to know details about their romance, and why they had decided to get married now. Clarke should have spoken up, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak to him. The closer to the truth the better, she decided.

Guards saw their torchlights long before they knew who was approaching. Floodlights pointed in their direction and Clarke had to shield her eyes as they led their horses to the gates.

“It’s Bellamy!” Clarke could hear someone shouting, “he’s back!” She grit her teeth. She’d just given up her happiness for these people, and they couldn’t even be happy to see her?

Lexa’s guards came in with them, though the camps own guards tried to stop them.

“They’re with us,” Bellamy ordered. No one wanted to argue with his tone.

“We’re safe with our people,” Clarke told the riders.

“We will stand guard. _Heda_ commands it,” she was told. The riders turned and went back into the darkness. Clarke wasn’t sure where they would stay—it was too cold to sleep in the open. Grounders were more resourceful than she gave them credit for, so hopefully they knew what they were doing.

Clarke kept her head high, even though she wanted to hide the choker or cover the blood on her brow. Whispers fired left and right about what the grounders had wanted from them, and what the chokers or the symbols meant. Clarke may have heard the word engagement thrown around once or twice, but she didn’t expect anyone to recognize the leather chokers as engagement rings. The fact that only two of them—that the people from the Arc knew about—were wearing the chokers could be a sign of engagement, but the blood symbols were throwing them off.

Clarke didn’t see her mother in the crowd. She hoped that she was resting, and not distracted because there was another emergency in the sick bay. Bellamy was looking over towards the sick bay too. He probably wanted to check on his sister.

They needed to announce their engagement though—and deal with the aftermath of the reactions to the fact that they were marrying Lexa. They should have talked about this, Clarke realized, but while the ride home had been long, it hadn’t been long enough to bridge the gap between them. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make Bellamy trust her again, and wasn’t sure if she ever could if she married him. This point would always be between them. The moment that Clarke let down someone that relied on her.

They dismounted and the crowd pressed close around them.

“What did she say?” Miller asked. His clothes had never looked so loose on him, and Clarke was worried about the bright flush of his face. He was probably going to be admitted to the sick bay in the next few days if he didn’t warm up, or get medical treatment.

“I need to speak with the Chancellors,” Bellamy ordered, “tell them to meet us on the Arc.”

“Are we going to war?” someone asked.

A woman closer to Clarke shouted, “Are the grounders going to help us or not?”

Clarke wasn’t sure what Bellamy was doing, but he motioned for her to follow him to the Arc. Clarke saw Raven and Wick watching them, and Raven moved around the edge of the crowd to follow. Jasper was waiting just outside of the Arc.

“Is Lexa going to help us?” he asked nervously.

“We’ll talk about that in a minute,” Bellamy assured him, “we just need to talk to the Chancellors first.”

“What’s with the facepaint?” Raven said it jokingly, but her eyes were narrowed as she studied their faces. Clarke resisted the urge to cover her forehead.

“Ceremony,” Clarke told her, answering nothing.

“Then they’re going to help us?” Jasper asked, “a ceremony is good, right? Monty’s going to be okay?”

Before Clarke or Bellamy had to think of an answer, Miller returned with Kane and her mother on his heels.

“What did—what are you wearing?” Her mom stopped short, taking in Clarke’s appearance. Clarke knew her mother wasn’t stupid, and might even ask if it was an engagement, but Clarke had never mentioned anything about being interested in a boy (since Finn) and she hadn’t told anyone about the time Lexa had kissed her. She struggled to keep her face neutral. If she was actually in love, she would be struggling to keep from showing how happy she was.

Telling her mother and Kane about the engagement first would be a good idea, she had to hand it to Bellamy. They’d be able to help control the people when they found out, should anyone get physically aggressive or upset.

Bellamy asked everyone else to stay out of the conference room, which left just Clarke, her mother, Kane and Bellamy himself. Her mom reached out to touch Clarke’s choker, but pulled back at the last moment. Clarke could see the wheels turning in her mothers’ mind.

“Is… is that some sort of grounder ritual? Or are you hurt?” she asked, hesitantly.

“Part of a ceremony,” Clarke admitted. She couldn’t meet her mothers’ eyes as Bellamy prepared to tell them about the engagement.

“I need both of you to abdicate your titles. Clarke and I will be the new Chancellors, and we want you to be our council,” Bellamy said.

Clarke’s eyes were as wide as dinner plates. Her mom snapped out a shocked ‘what?’ and Kane was stunned into silence.

Bellamy was leaning over the table, resting on his knuckles. He looked deadly serious. The symbols on his forehead had run down his temples slightly, making him look feral. In the light of the Arc Clarke could confirm that Lexa’s blood wasn’t just darker than hers—it was _black_ and it stood out on Bellamy’s skin.

“Lexa found out that we weren’t the official leaders of our people, and she was offended. Either Clarke and I were to be punished, or we agree to officially assume power. I don’t want to strip either of you of any authority, but I think we can all agree that I am already Chancellor in all but name,” Bellamy continued.

Oh, Clarke realized, of course. Lexa’s deal had been to marry the _leaders_ of the Sky People. Technically, even though Clarke and Bellamy had just signed away their souls for this deal, her mother and Kane could refuse to adhere to Lexa’s demands and destroy the alliance they were making.

“There’s never been two Chancellors before,” Kane scoffed.

“Not to mention a Chancellor as young as you!” her mom said, “the Chancellor needs to have experience and wisdom to base their decisions on.”

Clarke needed to stand by Bellamy on this, no matter how much she didn’t want this sort of responsibility again, “I seem to recall that there were three Chancellors when you first arrived on the ground.”

“That was a technicality,” her mom reminded her, “we’d assumed Thelonious was dead.”

“And I’d already abdicated,” Kane offered.

“But people still call both of you Chancellor,” Bellamy countered.

“You both are leaders, why is the title so important? We will support you in front of Lexa,” her mother said, “if that’s all she needs, we will support you. But this is too much responsibility, too young.”

“I’ve already led an army into battle,” Clarke reminded her mother, “and Bellamy has been acting Chancellor for months now. The two of us kept the original delinquents alive until you showed up, and even then we took care of all of you as well.”

“This isn’t really a debate,” Bellamy said softly, “it’s an order.”

Her mom was studying Clarke’s face. She was trying to put together all of the pieces. Clarke would have been happy never accepting the title of Chancellor. She knew Bellamy was the same. The title brought a weight with it like an iron chain around their ankle. When they didn’t have the title, it was easier to feel like their mistakes might not have consequences, and to pretend that they didn’t have to deal with those consequences. So her mother was trying to figure out why tonight, of all nights. Clarke didn’t think she bought Bellamy’s story about Lexa being offended.

“I’ll follow Abby’s lead,” Kane announced, “I’m not technically a Chancellor, but you’re correct when you say that people still see me as one. But I do have advice,” he cleared his throat and shifted his stance, apparently nervous about what he was about to say, “I don’t think Clarke should be a Chancellor.”

Her mother didn’t spring to her defense. Clarke wasn’t entirely surprised by that.

“It’s not that you wouldn’t make a good Chancellor, because we already know you are a good leader,” Kane said, turning to face Clarke, “but people are still upset that you voluntarily left us. To have you return, and within a week make you a Chancellor might upset them, and it could lead to riots or even revolts. They still trust Bellamy, and even though he’s young they would support him.”

Clarke wanted to fight him, but she also didn’t want to fight to be named Chancellor.

“No,” Bellamy shook his head, “Clarke and I will be Chancellors. Abby, are you going to fight me on this?”

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure where this side of Bellamy had come from. He hated directly confronting people like this, and forcing them into corners. Especially when he was doing it by throwing around his power. Unless his sister was involved, Clarke remembered, then he would do anything. Even become the bad guy.

Her mom was stiff, standing completely straight. She was staring ahead, into nothing, but quite obviously deep in thought.

“Mom?” Clarke prompted her softly.

Her mom drew a deep breath and turned to face Bellamy, “First tell me: are we going to get our medicine?”

Bellamy met her gaze without flinching, “Yes. The Commander will personally be bringing it to us tomorrow.”

She took a moment to contemplate the news, then nodded, “Okay. When the Commander brings the medicine, I’ll announce my abdication.”

“Tonight,” Bellamy corrected her, “right now.”

“Why?” her mom asked.

Clarke wasn’t entirely sure either.

“Tonight is a good night for announcements,” Bellamy replied, “and this way you can stop worrying about anything other than getting your patients to survive until tomorrow.”

“Is this about your sister?” her mom asked. Clarke noticed Kane eyeing the chokers that the both of them were wearing.

“This is about making sure our people survive,” Bellamy said coolly, “when we walk out those doors we are going to call everyone in Camp to come listen to you. Clarke and I will follow and explain what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

“What _is_ going to happen tomorrow?” Kane asked.

“You’ll find out,” Bellamy replied vaguely.

Clarke heard her mother’s quick intake of breath that meant she was frustrated.

“Mom,” Clarke said, and reached out to touch her for a soothing point of contact, “trust us. Everything is going to be okay. We hated to spring this on you, but we need to move fast.”

Her mom looked down at Clarke’s hand on her arm, and the anger drained out of her, “Okay,” she nodded, “okay. I trust you.”

“It’s getting late,” Bellamy interrupted them, “and it’s going to get colder as the night goes on. I want to get this over with as soon as possible.”

Her mom and Kane both looked angry at being addressed in such a callous way, but Clarke watched both of them slide into the neutral masks that they’d worn for years on the Council.

“Then lets get going,” her mom said.

Clarke let her mom and Kane leave, giving her a brief moment alone with Bellamy, “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“We need to have the power to override them, and no one will listen to us if the Chancellors say no to Lexa’s offers,” Bellamy growled, “besides, two birds with one stone. Hopefully everyone will be too excited about an engagement to get mad about all of the changes.”

“We need to do this slowly!” Clarke stressed, “too much at once is only going to make people upset. We need my mom and Kane on our side to announce the engagement. Are you just going to blindside them?”

“It’s too late now. Lexa will be here tomorrow and we have to start getting people ready to move soon. Now follow my lead and at least try to look like you’re happy,” Bellamy brushed past her.

“You could lose the attitude,” Clarke muttered to herself.

Her mom and Kane were already calling people to the raised platform by the main fire where the Chancellors made their announcements. The crowd that had gathered to see their return hadn’t quite properly dispersed, so there was still a large number of people milling around. Kane was ringing the bell that meant there was going to be a meeting. People were coming out of their homes. Clarke wondered if anyone in the sick bay was well enough to try and listen in.

She spotted Lincoln hovering at the edge of the group. Just as he caught Clarke’s gaze, his eyes widened and his jaw nearly dropped open. Clarke had never seen such an emotional response from him, and she wondered what was wrong until she remembered the symbols painted on hers and Bellamy’s faces. Lincoln would know what they meant, and he was smart enough to probably know what was going on. They needed to make sure Lincoln didn’t say anything to anyone.

Clarke was so struck by Lincoln’s reaction that she didn’t hear her mother beginning to speak until she was almost done.

“And so, it is with glad tidings that Chancellor Kane and myself abdicate our positions. We will remain on the Council for the next Chancellors. Who I now name as Bellamy Blake and Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke expected a cheer, maybe even a half-hearted clapping. But there was silence as she and Bellamy walked up onto the platform beside her mother and Kane. Her mom unclipped the Chancellor’s pin, and held it out.

“There’s only one,” she said, soft enough that no one would hear, “so I don’t know who…”

Bellamy took it, but then turned and handed it to Clarke. He was careful not to touch her, and Clarke fumbled with her cold fingers to get the pin into her coat.

Bellamy started talking as her mom and Kane stepped to the side. Clarke didn’t want to look into the crowd and see all of the angry faces.

“Boo!” someone yelled, “I demand a vote!”

They were backed by many loud voices.

“Traitors can become leaders now? How can we depend on someone who will abandon us?”

Clarke tried to block them out. She stared out into the crowd, seeing no one in particular. Some people were shouting that she and Bellamy were too young. Another voiced that there had never been two Chancellors before. Clarke couldn’t see any of her friends’ faces. Not even Lincoln’s.

“I want to thank the Former Chancellor Griffin for this honor,” Bellamy said loudly. The booing quieted, but the angry chatter didn’t stop.

“I know many of you are upset, but I assure you that despite our age, Clare and I are quite capable of caring for our people. We have been doing so since before the Arc came to earth. Clarke raised an entire army to save the people being held hostage in Mt Weather, and you all know I have been Chancellor in all but name for months. I had been planning on taking the proper title for a while now.”

“But why two of you?” a female voice called, “we don’t need two!”

Bellamy grinned, all bright teeth, and Clarke knew it was fake. Bellamy never smiled like that.

“Tonight is a special night, and now is as good a time to share the news. I decided it would be best if Clarke and I work together as Chancellors because… well, you remember the saying: behind every successful man is his wife.”

The crowd went so silent that Clarke could hear her mother’s shocked gasp. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her and see the joy on her mothers’ face.

Bellamy was looking at her, and Clarke realized she needed to speak.

“That’s right,” Clarke said. Her voice cracked, and she hoped everyone thought she was overcome with joyous emotion, when in fact it was the opposite, “Bellamy and I are engaged. We’re going to get married.”

The faces in the crowd that had only moments before been scowling and filled with rage, softened dramatically. Several people broke out in grins, and started laughing and cheering excitedly.

Clarke looked back to Bellamy. Your turn, she tried to tell him. He had to be the one to explain Lexa. If it came from her then there would be a riot.

Bellamy met her gaze and nodded briefly before turning back to the excited crowd, “There’s more,” he announced, “by now you must be wondering why Clarke and I chose these engagement gifts. And why we painted our faces,” the crowd fell silent, hanging on Bellamy’s words. What more could there be? Clarke wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out.

“The truth is,” Bellamy swallowed, and Clarke could see him fighting to maintain his happy façade, “Clarke and I are not only in love with one another,” she could see some smiles slipping. People were confused, “we have fallen in love with an earthborn. While our culture doesn’t understand love between three people, hers does. And so, we began our engagement with her customs, until we can find a way for our two cultures to merge.”

Clarke glanced at her mother out of the corner of her eye. She had been crying—likely in joy—but now she looked confused. Clarke felt tears coming into her own eyes.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Bellamy assured the crowd, trying to keep everyone calm and agreeable, “but thanks to our second fiancé, we are going to get the medicine and shelter we desperately need.”

“Who is it?” someone demanded. Clarke realized it was her mother, “who’s the other one?”

Bellamy was still smiling, all teeth, and Clarke had never seen anything braver as he announced, “The other woman we are going to marry is Lexa, the Commander of the grounders.”

The crowd burst into shouts of outrage and disgust. Some people were just stuck on the fact that Clarke and Bellamy thought they were in love, when there was a third person involved. Clarke struggled to keep her tears from falling.

“Lexa wants to bring peace, and that was what drew us to her,” she lied loudly. People fell silent, glaring at her, “she is a strong woman, and loves her people dearly,” Clarke glanced at Bellamy and tried to imagine a world where she could actually be in love with both of them, “Bellamy and I can relate. Tonight, the three of us were engaged in Lexa’s customs, and tomorrow she will join us here in Camp Jaha. She will bring the medicine that we need to save our sick, and then…” Clarke’s voice hitched, “and then we hope that our two peoples will come together under a new era of peace.”

People were staring at her as if they couldn’t understand what she was saying.

“We are going to move into Mt Weather,” Bellamy explained, coming up beside Clarke and she tried not to flinch as he wrapped an arm around her waist, “us and the grounders, myself and my two fiancés. And when we have all settled, then,” Bellamy looked at Clarke and she struggled to look love struck as she looked into his eyes. She couldn’t actually meet his eyes this close, and picked a point on his face to focus on so she didn’t have to see the lie in his look, “then when our people are happy, we hope to have the first marriage between the people of earth and the people of the Arc.”

Someone cheered, and the sound was carried through the crowd. Their people were confused, but a wedding was still cause for celebration. Clarke started crying. It was appropriate now.

She’d always imagined her engagement announcement would be small, between her family and closest friends. She had never been too invested in showing off her wealth or much about her private life. Never had she imagined standing in front of a crowd and declaring her love for someone who couldn’t stand her, and for someone she’d rather see dead.

“The tears are a good idea,” Bellamy whispered into her ear. His grip was as tight as a vice, “but don’t overdo it.”

* * *

Her mom was the first to get to them, running across the stage and nearly tackling Clarke off of her feet.

“Clarke, oh my god! Oh my god—when? Since when?” her mom was a mess, and Clarke hadn’t seen so many conflicting emotions in someone before. She looked like she was happy, sad and also angry.

“It… it’s been a long time coming,” Clarke managed to tell her. That was what a lot of married couples on the Arc said about their love.

“You never said anything,” her mother scolded her, “you never even told me you were seeing someone.”

She was feeling cut off from the only family she had on earth. Clarke wanted to tell her that there had been nothing to share until only a few hours ago.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said instead, “I just… I wanted something for myself. You know how it is.”

“Is… is he why you came back?” her mom whispered, glancing over at Bellamy.

“And you,” Clarke assured her immediately, “I missed you too… but I also realized my feelings for him.” Her voice felt robotic. She was mentally flipping through every interview and stereotype of married couples she’d poured over as a little girl when she’d dreamed about having a marriage just like her mother and fathers’.

Kane was talking to Bellamy, congratulating him, but also had a very confused expression.

“Bellamy is a good man,” her mom was saying, “he has a big heart. I didn’t think he was your type, but… I can see why you love him…” she trailed off uncertainly, and Clarke knew what she was going to ask next.

“But Lexa… Clarke, are you sure?”

“Yes,” Clarke said quickly, “we love her.”

“But how? You’ve only been talking for a week,” her mom said, “and the last time you worked with her she left us all to die!”

Clarke didn’t have an answer. She remembered the horror that swept through her, and the panic at the realization that she wouldn’t be able to save her people. That she was one small child against the might of an entire mountain.

“She did,” Clarke acknowledged, “but she’s changed. And…” the lie rolled too easily off of her tongue, “and I was already a little bit in love with her, from before.”

“Clarke she’s dangerous. She was a bad influence on you,” her mom pressed.

“Mom I love her. And love is unpredictable. This time it’s going to bring peace.” Clarke resisted crying again. She hated crying in front of her mother.

“Oh sweetie, I know how strong love can be,” her mother whispered, and pulled Clarke into a hug, “I worry though,” she continued, “about the three of you. Being in power and being married. It… it has traditionally not been good to mix politics with domestics.”

Clarke tried to smile for her mom, “Nothing about this is traditional.”

“But you’re sure?” her mom asked again, “you’re sure this is what you want?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Clarke replied.

Her mom nodded, and then broke into a grin, “my baby girl, getting married.” She started crying again, “you’re so young, Clarke. I’m happy for you. We’ll have to start planning your wedding.”

“Soon,” Clarke agreed. Bellamy had just been swarmed by their friends, and Clarke needed to get away from her mother, “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Jasper punched Bellamy in the shoulder as Clarke approached.

“About time you two,” Miller was grinning ear-to-ear, obviously caught up in the excitement.

Clarke decided to stand beside Bellamy, a little bit closer than she normally would have. She hoped it gave the impression that they were together. She’d never been able to figure out exactly what it was about two people that could signal they were together, but she tried to mimic everything she’d seen of other couples.

“About time?” Bellamy echoed.

“Well I mean, we all knew you two were into each other but we didn’t even know you were dating,” Miller said.

“What?” Both she and Bellamy shouted. Clarke laughed nervously and tried to come up with an excuse for why they would be so shocked that people thought they were dating. Thankfully Wick rescued her.

“And you’re Chancellors now?” Wick shouted, “oh my god! This is unreal! This is the greatest!”

“And what the hell are you doing with the Commander?” Raven snapped. She was the only one who didn’t seem to be in a good mood. Clarke hadn’t forgotten that Lexa had once tortured Raven under the assumption that Raven had tried to poison her.

“I… I don’t expect you to forgive her,” Clarke said softly, “but I do ask that you respect our choice.”

“She broke her promise,” Raven replied, crossing her arms over her chest, “she didn’t care what happened to all of us, and now she wants peace because you love her? And you believe that? I thought you were smarter than this, Clarke.”

“Are you saying you don’t believe us?” Bellamy cut in. Clarke was relieved. If anyone could see through and call out bullshit it was Raven. If they could convince her, they could convince anyone.

Raven paused, trying to phrase her answer correctly, “I think you _two_ would be a great couple. I think Lexa is like adding gasoline to a fire. She’s unpredictable and destructive and I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Bellamy replied curtly.

Kane also congratulated Clarke on her engagement, and thankfully said nothing of Lexa.  She and Bellamy talked with their friends a while longer, until Lincoln approached them. Clarke grabbed Bellamy by the arm, and could feel him tense when he saw Octavia’s boyfriend.

“Can you excuse us,” Clarke asked everyone. She and Bellamy stepped aside with Lincoln. Clarke tried to be mindful of where she was in relation to Bellamy, and attempted to stay close to them. A newly engaged couple would be expected to stay in close contact with one another. Distance could make people suspicious.

“It’s a good deal,” Lincoln said quietly, as soon as they were out of earshot, “the Commander has many resources, and you have now bought her as a trusted ally.”

“You can’t tell Octavia,” Bellamy said immediately, “she can never find out.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Clarke amended, “for the sake of our people.”

Lincoln nodded, “I understand. And I understand what you are doing for your people. You are very brave, and you will make good leaders. I do not have anything of value to offer you, other than my loyalty.”

Clarke recalled Lexa telling them that all of the clans under her power would come to pay tribute and offer gifts. That must be what Lincoln was doing for them. Treating them like a Commander. Her knees felt weak for a moment. She and Bellamy were now the Chancellors of their people, and once they married Lexa would that make them Commanders of the grounders? They had both gone from children to the rules of their corner of the world in only a few months.

“Thank you,” Clarke said. She hoped he understood it was as much for his silence as it was for his trust, “that is a great gift.”

“I want to go see my sister,” Bellamy announced, “how’s she doing?”

Lincoln shook his head, “Not well.”

“Bellamy we have to stay together,” Clarke reminded him, “this is our engagement night.”

Bellamy huffed angrily, “And I’ve had enough of it already. My sister is sick and if Lexa isn’t here on time I’ll kill her.”

“Watch yourself,” Clarke snapped, “or do you want this to be over before it even starts? We’ll look like idiots if it doesn’t work.”

“We are idiots,” Bellamy reminded her, and his tone changed to sickeningly sweet as some people drifted closer to them, curious to hear what they were talking about so heatedly, “just a couple of idiots in love.”

He pulled away from her and started heading towards the sick bay. Clarke counted to three, and then headed after him. She wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight anyways. It would be better to be doing something with her hands. And it would look good for them—while this was their engagement night this was also their first night as official Chancellors.

That made Clarke’s head spin. A year ago, when she’d been locked in solitary and drawing on the walls to keep from losing her mind, she had never dreamed she’d be here today. At eighteen she was leader of her people, had fought and destroyed an entire civilization that had existed for over a hundred years. She’d fallen in love, she’d killed nearly more people than she’d ever met, and she’d had her heart broken in a way only her mother could understand. She was nowhere near being that same girl on the Arc, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to be a Chancellor just yet.

It felt like it took them years to work their way through the crowd. The next hour was a whirlwind of faces and questions Clarke could barely answer. She used a lot of vague references, smiled and laughed a lot. She was terrible at faking laughter, and it sounded to her like the kind of laughter someone on the verge of hysterics might use. Neither she or Bellamy ever reached for one another—physical contact had never been their thing and even though they needed to sell the idea that they were in love, Clarke couldn’t bring herself to risk the distance between them. Hopefully people would accept that they weren’t a physically affectionate couple.

The changes in their dynamic seemed huge, like Clarke had woken up one morning and the landscape had changed without her knowing. They were engaged now, set to be married, and Clarke had never felt more alone.

* * *

Monty was pale and flushed, with glossy eyes, but he was sitting up and his smile looked brighter than it had been since he got sick.

“What’s going on? I heard people talking—is there an engagement?” he would have gotten out of bed too, if Clarke hadn’t forced him to lie down. Bellamy made a beeline for Octavia, and was talking softly to her while brushing her hair out of her face.

Before Clarke could answer Monty spotted the Chancellor’s pin on her coat. His eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

“Is—is that? No way! Clarke? You?” he gasped.

“And Bellamy. We’re the new Chancellors,” she confirmed. A few weary heads lifted on beds around her to say brief words of congrats.

“As for the engagement…” Clarke trailed off, touching the leather choker on her neck.

Monty gasped so hard that he started coughing.

“You’re engaged?” he shouted. Several heads—many more than just before—shot up to look at Clarke.

Clarke nodded, “Yeah, me and Bellamy…” she licked her lips, “me, Bellamy and Lexa are engaged.”

Monty’s excitement was replaced with pure confusion, “What? But that… it doesn’t work like that.”

“Sleep on it,” Clarke assured him, “the medicine is coming tomorrow. You’re going to be okay.”

Monty nodded slowly, “Okay… but what about Octavia?”

Clarke lowered her voice so hopefully Bellamy wouldn’t hear her, “How is she?”

Monty shook his head, “Not good. I don’t think she’s woken up all day. It’s… it was the same, with the last person that… you know, _left_.”

Clarke bit her lip, “She’ll make it,” she assured him, “Octavia is a fighter. She’s strong.”

“This is great though,” Monty gestured at Clarke, and so she assumed he was talking about the engagement, “I mean, you and Bellamy have been in love for forever.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” Clarke muttered.

“It’s not true,” Monty said, quite seriously. Clarke was beginning to realize he was a little delusional because of his fever.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the truth?” she asked.

Monty leaned in, like he had a terrible secret, “Bellamy’s been in love with you when you aren’t looking.”

Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. She and Bellamy worked well together, and understood each other on a level that other people couldn’t. In many that would inspire romance, but they’d both always understood that they were too different for anything to work. Besides, while she could admit Bellamy was at least attractive, he wasn’t at all her type. And from the people she knew had slept with him, she was fully aware she wasn’t his type either. And she was fine with that. As long as she had his support, that was all they required from one another.

If only she had that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Lexa's speeches:**
> 
>  
> 
> "I have made a [my] choice. These are my [intended] spouses. The two leaders of Skaikru, Clarke Griffin and Bellamy Blake. The Commander of Death and the Warrior of Death: the Mountain [Killers] Slayers. They burned Mt Weather, They killed [massacred] the Mountain Men!"
> 
> "I, Lexa, Commander of a Thousand Clans, Commander of the Coalition: I who saved our people from Mt Weather, I who saw the end of the Mountain Men—I [become an alliance] pledge myself to my lovers!"
> 
> \----
> 
> It finally happened! Clarke and Bellamy had no choice but to take Lexa's offer. We got one engagement scene, but like Lexa said. Be prepared for many nights of "celebration". Our trio aren't too happy about this. Clarke breaks my heart this chapter. All she wanted was an average happy life, and then everything went wrong for her and keeps getting worse ):
> 
> Was the inclusion of Trigedasleng words okay? I understand why the show does it differently, but I'm always a little sad that the show never has the grounders and Arc people struggle through translations or the fact that their 'english's' might have evolved differently. I'm hoping to incorporate more Arc-people slang as we go, as well as Trigedasleng words and slang.
> 
> Also, isn't Bellamy being a huge butt right now?! The boy is such a huge jerk when he's cornered and scared for his sister (see: season 1) and I was so excited to show this original, organic character growth of him being an ass and digging himself into a deep hole of his own doing… and then that's exactly what the show did. Woops. But oh no! Now he and Clarke aren't working together! Bellamy, c'mon, get your act together, man!
> 
> Do you think Lexa made Clarke put the symbol for 'love' on Lexa on purpose? Out of spite or….? Will Lexa make it in time with the medicine?
> 
> As always, I love hearing back from y'all. I am but a simple writing gremlin and your reviews sustain me for another week (:
> 
> See you Saturday for chapter 7!


	7. Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Did everyone survive the new episode? I didn’t!! First we had Kane and Abby finally **FINALLY** admit their feeling! YES!!! And then Lincoln left us _(sobs)_. It was a helluva ride. 
> 
> I’ve got some good/bad news to share! I just found out, like in this last week, that the fam and I are going to be moving across the country in like 2 months or less. While I’m super excited it means there is so _much_ I have to do to get ready. And then on top of that, there’s a lot of people coming out to visit. So I’m going to be really really busy, and then without internet for a bit while we set up in our new digs.
> 
> So what does it mean for the story? I’ve got a few more chapters pre-written, just awaiting revisions and some rewrites, but I’m thinking I might just put this story on a temporary hiatus following next week. This isn’t set in stone yet- I might surprise myself and be able to keep writing while dealing with everything else- but I’ll keep y’all posted. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! I love your feedback.

 

It felt like being hung.

The choker cut into Bellamy’s skin and felt tight when he tried to inhale. He wanted to cut the damn thing off but if he dared then Octavia would die. He’d hang himself a thousand times, tie his own noose again and everything, if it meant that his sister would be safe.

He’d once thought that there wasn’t anything he wouldn’t do for Octavia, until now. He’d kill himself, he’d kill others. He’d done both of these things. He almost said no to the marriage. Almost backed out of the arrangement several times now, in the few hours since being engaged. And he feared he would be tempted many times again.

Looking at Octavia’s face reminded him why he needed to do this. Why it was all worth it. He was scaring himself. There had never been an obstacle he couldn’t climb for his sister, and now he was almost too cowardly to go through with this. What kind of brother was he?

She was going to hate him when she woke up. He’d broken the last promise he’d made to her, not to mention she would never believe that he’d married Clarke and Lexa without talking to her first. Well, maybe she’d believe it about Clarke since everyone seemed to think they were in love already. He hoped that Octavia would forgive him, and that he could figure out a way to convince her to keep his secret.

Bellamy was exhausted. He wanted nothing more than to take a hot shower—a fanciful dream on the arc, let alone on earth—and scrub the blood off of his face, and then sleep for at least two full days. He wanted to forget about what he was signing himself up for and the life of misery he’d doomed himself to.

Maybe not complete misery he figured, hearing Clarke laugh at something Monty said. He wasn’t sure how she could laugh at a time like this, surrounded by all of the sick. Clarke had always been pragmatic, and he respected her ability to put her people first, but sometimes some of her upper-class mannerisms rubbed him the wrong way. Like the way she thought she could make marriage arrangements and then force him to follow.

For a while Bellamy had assumed he and Clarke stood together, as equals, for their people. He’d spent so long at the bottom that the authority he’d gained and influence he had on his people led him to believe he could be a leader. When it came to Clarke, Bellamy was realizing he’d never be anything but her second-in-command. He wasn’t sure how she was adjusting to the fact that their people now thought of him as her leader, because so far most of her decisions had been about undermining him.

Bellamy tugged at the choker on his neck, and wished he could scrape the dry blood off of his face. It itched something fierce now that it was dried, and he didn’t want to think about all the possible diseases he could get from the blood. Clarke had gotten him into this mess, and if she thought he was going to submit to her every order she had another thing coming.

This was all about Octavia, he reminded himself. His love for her would get him through anything. He could endure anything to keep her safe.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, staring at Octavia’s sleeping face, when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

He spooked, but it was just Clarke.

“You should get some rest,” she told him. Probably going through the motions of a doctor. If Clarke really knew him she’d never suggest something so stupid.

Bellamy shook his head, “My sister is sick. I’m not going anywhere.”

Clarke looked like she was about to argue, but thought differently, “How about we take shifts? I’ll keep an eye on her for a few hours, and then we’ll trade.”

“I don’t need your help,” Bellamy snapped, before realizing they had an audience, and forcibly softened his tone, “I’ve been looking after her my whole life.”

Some strange expression flickered across Clarke’s face, and she almost looked sad.

“Okay,” Clarke said quietly, and without another word she turned and walked to her mother who was beginning rounds to check in on the sick.

Bellamy wasn’t sure why Clarke was being so sensitive all of a sudden. They both needed to be hard in order to survive their marriage. The next few days were going to be especially trying, and if she was getting hurt because… because of the truth? She’d spent enough time with him to know that Octavia came first, and Bellamy only trusted himself to keep Octavia safe.

He put the back of his hand to Octavia’s forehead. She was burning hot and sweating, but shivering so hard he thought her teeth might start clicking. She hadn’t moved from the position Abby and Lincoln had put her in that morning. He’d wiped the sick from her face, but her clothes still smelled. The whole place smelled awful. Like sweat, bile and some places smelled like the latrines. He needed to get Octavia out of here.

“Just a few more hours,” Bellamy whispered, hoping she could hear him, “hang in there, O.” 

* * *

There was frost on the ground in the morning. Bellamy wasn’t sure how to explain it, but the sunlight seemed weaker. It was just as bright as it was during the summer, but faded somehow. As if by removing the heat from it the light became insignificant. The world seemed a little more washed out and dreary. That may also be due to the fact that he hadn’t slept all night, and that he was engaged.

Octavia had gotten sick several times last night, and Bellamy spent the hours softly cleaning her face and making sure she didn’t suffocate. She hadn’t eaten anything in almost a day, and even Abby was hesitant to let Bellamy try to feed her any broth or tea. Bellamy had tried to wake her up, but all she did was mumble feverish words and start coughing. He’d never been so scared in his whole life.

Clarke had spent the night at the edge of Bellamy’s perception. She seemed to be caging him in, directly in his line of sight every time he looked up. The universe was conspiring against him and bringing every little bit of conflict in his life into one room, making it impossible to think or focus on just one because every time Bellamy saw Clarke he grew furious about what she was making him do, and every time Bellamy looked at his sister he grew furious just thinking about what he was going to sacrifice for her.

As impossible as it seemed, his anger was still strong. Bellamy felt burned by the heat of his rage, and tried to keep it tempered. He knew he was a risk for falling prey to his emotions. He always had been, and he knew how to weather his own moods. While most of his angry worked itself out over time, Bellamy couldn’t shake the fuel to the fire. The air was cold and his breath misted in the cold light, but he hardly felt it.

Abby had insisted that he and Clarke take some time to get some rest. Both of them had refused. Clarke had finally crashed in a chair in a corner, head tipped back and throat exposed. It meant she was showing off the leather choker even as she slept. Bellamy got a few minutes of shuteye here and there, chin tucked to his chest and his neck strained from the awkward position. He only knew time had passed between closing and opening his eyes because Lincoln arrived and vanished between blinks.

Kane had brought them breakfast in the morning, and let the new fiancés go find somewhere private to eat. There was a long day ahead, and more people were going to want more information about the new Chancellors and about their promise to move into Mt Weather. Also people would be cornering them about their unusual engagement.  They should take all of the private time they could right now, before things got really hectic.

Clarke was the last person Bellamy wanted to be around, and she seemed to share this sentiment. They were both perfectly civil in front of Clarke’s mother and Kane, and Bellamy even made a show of carrying Clarke’s tray of food for her to a spot behind the sick hut and closer to the fence. There were some rocks that had been set out for people to sit on before the sick hut was placed here, and now barely anyone visited the spot. Once they were alone the two of them sat a comfortable distance—much further than lovers would sit—away from one another and ate in silence.

Bellamy was debating the pros and cons of sending scouts to see if Lexa was holding her end of the deal when Clarke spoke up.

“When Lexa arrives we really have to sell the idea that we’re in love,” she said. She’d stopped eating to look at him.

Bellamy ignored that curtesy and bit into his protein paste, “I’m well aware.”

“What do you think we should do?” Clarke asked, “everyone accepted you and I so easily—I mean, everyone seems to think we’ve been in love for months. But how are we supposed to convince them that we fell in love with Lexa in a matter of days?”

Unfortunately that was a good point. Bellamy set his paste down and chewed thoughtfully. He could think of several examples of couples that he knew really liked one another, and who seemed to speed through relationship states far faster than may be necessary. Most of them were characterized by lots of sex, touching and ignoring everyone around them. He really was only prepared to commit to one of those characteristics, and even then he wanted to keep his hands off of Lexa and Clarke as much as possible. He knew what both of them were capable of and he didn’t have a lot of desire to touch them in the first place.

“I worked closely with Lexa, when we fought against Mt Weather,” Clarke mused. She hadn’t been able to look Bellamy in the eyes since they got engaged and he hated it. Clarke had gone and done this to both of them, and now she was acting like she was the only one suffering.

“Lexa and I have that history, at least, but there’s still the fact that she broke her promise to me,” Clarke continued, “and we can say that you and Lexa had met a few times before you went into Mt Weather.”

“But to explain a whirlwind week-long romance?” Bellamy asked, “that’s not enough reason. I have no idea how this three-way marriage thing is supposed to work. Are we all supposed to be equally in love? Are two people actually married and one is the backup? There’s a lot that doesn’t make sense to me, but I think we can blame the whole thing on you.”

Bellamy would be a liar if he claimed not to enjoy the way Clarke flinched. There was nothing as satisfying as lashing out at the people who were causing you grief when they couldn’t strike back. It was petty and childish and there was no one to tell Bellamy to grow up right now.

“And what do you mean by that?” Clarke finally asked.

“You and Lexa fell in love while working together,” Bellamy explained, “while at the same time you and I were also falling in love—but the distance with me in Mt Weather made it difficult for both of us. When you came back we fell in love again, just as hard, and then when Lexa came into the picture you admitted to me that you fell in love with her. And I went to meet her for negotiations and was prepared to challenge her for your honor, but instead I saw all of the qualities you could fall in love with and I decided that because I loved you so much I would be happy to share you with someone else.”

Clarke was staring at him—not meeting his eyes—and her upper lip was curled in disgust, “You make me sound like a… a…”

“A what?” Bellamy prompted. If she said anything along the lines of slut or whore he wasn’t sure if he’d laugh or hit her. He’d heard those words thrown at his mother for years—and even towards Octavia just because she was a Sibling.

Clarke exhaled sharply through her nose, “That story makes me sound like a bad person. It gives me the reputation of a cheater, and as someone who can’t make up their mind while painting you as the self-sacrificing hero. If we go with that story people will never trust me: as a leader _or_ as a wife.”

That was true. Clarke’s public image wasn’t necessarily Bellamy’s biggest concern, but it would be difficult trying to lead when he’d also have to be salvaging Clarke’s image without letting it drag him down. Everyone was already going to hate Lexa. If they didn’t like Clarke, then the marriage was going to be under extreme scrutiny.

“So what do you suggest?” Bellamy muttered. He went back to eating and let Clarke stew on her thoughts.

Clarke was looking out past the fence and into the forest, “We have to go into this as equals. Everyone buys that you and I are in love, and have been in love for months. I think that they aren’t going to question our commitment if we stick to how we usually are together, and maybe if we’re conscious to embellish on some things. But with Lexa we really have to sell it. I think it means being public with affection, and making sure we’re public so people can see.”

“The Commander strikes me as someone who’d rather kill me than kiss me,” Bellamy replied. The memory of Lexa forcing him to kiss her during their engagement went through his mind and he shuddered. Hopefully Clarke would think it was because of the cold.

Clarke looked like she’d bitten into something sour, “Lexa won’t know how our people display affection, and that’s what they’ll be looking for. We have to be willing to get out of our comfort zones to make it look like we love her.”

Bellamy scratched at his throat and his fingers caught on the choker. His skin tingled underneath and he tried to get his fingernails under the leather to relieve himself of the annoyance. The sooner Lexa showed up and they could take these collars off the better. The sooner Lexa showed up and Octavia got healthy, the even _better_.

“That’s not necessarily either of our styles,” Bellamy pointed out, “people are going to be suspicious if we act like teenagers with Lexa, but not with each other.”

Clarke frowned, “I’m still a teenager,” she reminded him, though it seemed to strike her that she was indeed a teenager and for a moment she looked ill. Bellamy felt sick too. He was barely older than a teenager and here he was signing his life away for all of this power and for his sister.

“So are we here to negotiate kissing in public?” Bellamy said, “because you can be the first to kiss Lexa. She might be less likely to stab you for it.”

Clarke looked repulsed. Bellamy couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have someone as heartless and evil as the Commander like you. It made his skin crawl.

“Don’t make that face. You got us into this,” Bellamy set his tray down. He was no longer hungry. Clarke was still eating, though she was mostly picking at her food now.

“It’s what we have to do,” Clarke agreed, “and we can say that it was a sudden, unexplainable attraction. It caught us all off guard back during the war on Mt Weather, but we didn’t have time to deal with it. Then with the negotiations we had to deal with a lot of emotions, and while working it out we realized that we all felt strongly about one another. Lexa can tell people that she was desperate to prove her love to us and that’s why we got engaged to quickly—after we told her the significance of that to us.”

Bellamy shook his head, “We shouldn’t even imply that grounders see marriage as something different. It’ll make people question Lexa’s motives. Besides, the Commander doesn’t seem like someone who’s ever desperate for anything.”

Clarke nodded thoughtfully, “Okay. Then we all realized we were in love and didn’t want to wait any longer, especially because we know how fragile life can be on earth.”

“How are you going to explain Lexa pulling the fast one on you?” Bellamy asked. He wanted to see Clarke unable to come up with a good answer. He couldn’t think of a way to get around that one himself.

“The past is the past,” Clarke responded in a tone that let him know she’d been thinking about this for hours now, “Lexa did what she thought was best for her people, and now that our people are her people we can rest assured she’ll never leave any of us behind again.”

Bellamy couldn’t see any holes in her explanation, so instead he shrugged and said, “that’s really wordy.”

Both he and Clarke fell silent for a few more minutes. It became evident that Clarke wasn’t going to eat any more of her food. It was time to head back into the sick hut and wait for Lexa to arrive with the medicine and hope that Octavia lasted the last few hours.

A thought crossed Bellamy’s mind, “If we’re going to be a couple that wants to show off in public, then we need boundaries. I don’t like being kissed without warning.”

“I don’t like being kissed in public,” Clarke sighed, “but I don’t want to kiss you and surprise you. Should we have a list of dos and don’ts?”

Bellamy shook his head, “Having a list will ruin any natural look of the act. We have to be able to improvise and cross lines when we need to. But we can have things that we both agree on being more okay than others, and save the ones both of us don’t want for more extreme moments.”

Clarke sighed dejectedly. Her eyes looked bruised from the long nights she’d been spending taking care of the sick, “That sounds good. What are okay things for you?”

Bellamy shrugged, “Kissing on the cheek? If we’re sitting together in public I’ll probably put my arm around you or my hand on your thigh. It’s what other people do,” he explained, “if I’m interested in you then I want to be broadcasting that you’re mine.”

“I don’t want you touching my thighs,” Clarke said quickly, “keep your hands away from anywhere you wouldn’t touch your sister.”

“You’re making this more difficult than it has to be,” Bellamy said, “it’s not like I’ll be coping a feel. It’s just for show.”

“No,” Clarke shook her head, and she shuddered, “just… don’t. Nothing sexual like that.”

“You think that’s sexual?” Bellamy scoffed, and sudden horror hit him, “wait, don’t tell me. Are you a—didn’t you and Finn—?”

Clarke’s face went pale and she looked down at her tray with wide eyes.

“I… it’s none of—yes, we did. It’s not important,” she stammered.

Bellamy felt a flood of relief. He hadn’t even considered the fact that Clarke had been in solitary confinement before coming to earth, and he didn’t know for how long. She may have spent most of her teenaged years in there and had no time to fool around with someone. He’d just always assumed she and Finn had gotten around to having sex because of all of the time they spent together, but then again appearances were deceiving. People kept assuming Bellamy and Octavia were lovers when that couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Okay, I’ll keep the touching to a minimum,” Bellamy said, “how do you feel about actual kissing?”

Clarke screwed up her face in contempt, and Bellamy didn’t even feel an ounce of anger that her face was at the thought of kissing him. He felt the same way about her, even if he was a good kisser.

“Hold out on that one,” he said, “we’ll save it for when we absolutely have to.” They both knew that was inevitable, even outside of the kiss they would have to share at their wedding.

“Should we have a signal?” Clarke asked, “so we can be prepared?”

Bellamy shook his head, “Unless you can think of something that won’t be noticed when we’re being watched by people all day. I think we have to agree to tread with caution, but to beg forgiveness rather than ask for permission.”

“My line still stands, even if we can’t signal each other,” Clarke finally agreed, “nothing too sexual. Don’t touch my… thighs or my,” she gestured to her breasts, “or my chest. I don’t know if I’ll be able to go along with it if you do that.”

Bellamy nodded in agreement, though he wanted to argue with her. Did she think he was some sort of pervert who just groped girls for fun? It showed that Clarke didn’t know him half as well as she pretended to. It made Bellamy’s stomach churn to think that Clarke thought he was the kind of guy to pressure her into doing sexual things she wasn’t ready for, “ Don’t… well, I don’t really have any hard lines. I guess I don’t like holding hands. It’s annoying, and what kids do.”

Clarke shook her head, “Me neither. But,” she sighed, “it is an easy way to show affection. We may have to rethink our stance on that one.”

Bellamy groaned, “I can do it, if we have to. But don’t overdo it, okay?”

“You said that last night,” Clarke muttered.

Bellamy shrugged, “I didn’t realize you were a crier.”

“I didn’t realize you were the type of guy who told people how to express themselves,” Clarke snapped.

“Well excuse me,” Bellamy leaned forwards, “I am doing the best I can with this mess. Last night you started crying because you were scared, well guess what, so am I. But you don’t see me crying about it. If people had realized you were actually crying then it would be really hard to convince them that you were happy and wanted to marry me. So yeah, don’t overdo it with your emotions. Learn to control yourself.”

Clarke stared at him in shock. She was probably stunned that he’d be so frank with her. Bellamy hadn’t said anything this harsh to her since they first crashed on earth and were practically at war with one another. She’d grown used to him supporting her, and she needed to remember he was an actual person and not her puppet to be yanked around.

Bellamy got up without another word and headed back to the sick hut. He handed his tray off to a concerned boy checking in on his parents to take back to the kitchen for cleaning. Hopefully that would keep the boy from getting sick. Bellamy glanced back up at the sky. The sun was crawling across the pale blue sky, and several low-hanging grey clouds were moving in to block what little warmth the sun could provide. It was going to be a cold day, and it was hours yet until Lexa was due to arrive. Bellamy willed the sun to move faster, to climb higher and hit the point that marked midday.

Clarke didn’t return to the hut, and Bellamy was grateful for that. He didn’t need her presence lurking over his shoulder all the time. They were also going to be seeing too much of one another for the next while… for the rest of their lives, really. He had more important things to focus on at the moment, anyways.

Octavia’s skin was ashen and her breathing sounded like the rattle of screws and nails in a cup. Her hair was sticky with sweat, and even though Lincoln was putting cold clothes on her forehead and her neck, they couldn’t cool her down. Abby came back to check on her every few minutes. Bellamy wanted to be thankful for the extra attention, but he knew what that meant. His sister was on the verge of dying, and all he could do was hold her hand and count her breaths. 

* * *

At one point Abby took Bellamy by the arm—gently but firmly—and pulled him away. Lincoln stayed with Octavia, and while Bellamy knew she was among friends, he couldn’t take her eyes off of her.

“Bellamy,” Abby said quietly, “we really haven’t had a chance to talk since last night.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy said dumbly. What had even happened last night? Did it have anything to do with his sister? He didn’t understand why Abby was leading him out of the hut, but he’d trusted her judgment enough in the last few months that he went along willingly.

Abby pulled him back to nearly the same spot he and Clarke had been sitting at earlier that morning. The frost had mostly melted, but a lot of the grasses around were still tinted with white.

“You never told me you were in love with Clarke,” Abby said, “you never even mentioned being in love at all.”

Oh. Bellamy tore his eyes away from the hut. He needed to have his mind together. Abby and Clarke both had incredibly intuitive minds and could call out bullshit a mile away. Neither of them were afraid to do so. Bellamy couldn’t forget that this was a family of women who had murdered the men they loved for the sake of the greater good. He trusted Abby, but if she suspected anything about this marriage was a sham she wouldn’t hesitate to tear it apart, medicine and peace be damned.

“It didn’t… there really wasn’t a time for it,” Bellamy explained. The trick was to be vague and try to draw people into coming to their own conclusions. They would hear whatever they wanted.

“How long?” Abby demanded, “how long were you two sneaking around under my nose?”

Bellamy shook his head, “It was never like that, I promise. I…” what had everyone else said? That he’d obviously been in love with Clarke from almost the beginning? That would work, “I think I started falling for her months ago, before the Arc came down. But she was with Finn, and I didn’t think I had the right to break up something that was making her happy. And then after Finn… things were happening too quickly. I, well, I didn’t think we had a good chance of surviving so I decided to be a little brave.”

Abby nodded sadly, “I just… I can’t believe neither of you would tell me until you announced it.”

Bellamy bit his lip. Abby was angry about being kept out of the loop—the woman loved information. And she had a good relationship with her daughter. She was probably feeling like Clarke didn’t trust her. Bellamy would have been furious if Octavia suddenly announced her engagement without telling him first.

“Clarke wanted to tell you,” Bellamy suggested, “but I thought it would be a better surprise. I should have known better, sorry. I’m not… I’m not the best with dealing with parents.”

Abby frowned, and a look of pity crossed her face. She was thinking about the fact that Bellamy’s mother was dead and he’d never had a father. He knew that look too well.

“Plus,” Bellamy offered, to change the topic, “it just… with Clarke leaving… it never seemed like a good thing. We weren’t anything official until she came back. It just seemed like it was a long time coming by then.”

“Do you think she’s rushing this?” Abby asked, “not that I don’t think you’ll be good to her, but do you think Clarke might not be ready?”

Clarke was the last person Bellamy wanted to talk about right now. He scuffed his shoe on the ground and glanced back at the hut where Octavia was. Why did Abby need to talk to him right now?

“Clarke is an incredible woman,” Bellamy assured Abby. He tried to use big words to impress her, “you saw to that. She’s more than I could ever want in my entire life, and even if she’s a little young to be married, so what? It just means that I get to call her my wife longer than most people get to be married.”

The words sounded sickeningly sweet coming out of his mouth, but Bellamy put enough weight into them that they almost sounded sincere.

Abby seemed to smile a bit at that. She was trying to be harsh to scare Bellamy into admitting any dark secrets he might be hiding, but more than anything she was excited that her daughter was getting married.

“Another thing,” Abby mentioned, looking thoughtful, “about why I’m worried about Clarke. This… the three people. I don’t understand. How did that even happen?”

Bellamy was suddenly grateful that he and Clarke had discussed this already.

“Similar timelines,” he explained, “Lexa and Clarke were attracted to each other a while back, and while working together they got to know each other pretty well. Obviously things fell apart for a while, but the feelings remained.”

“I don’t understand how you can love two people,” Abby admitted, “and I don’t think it’s necessarily possible.”

“I know it’s strange,” Bellamy agreed, “but trust me, it’s very possible. It just takes the right people.”

“How did you know you were the right people?” Abby asked.

Bellamy looked back at the hut again. Why was Abby so chatty now? Didn’t she understand that his sister was sick?

“We just did,” Bellamy said sharply, and then realized his mistake, “we, uh, we realized that there was no way to compare how much we felt about each other. It just made more sense for all of us to be together when we couldn’t bear the idea of the three of us breaking apart.”

“I’m nervous about the Commander,” Abby admitted.

“Don’t be,” Bellamy replied, “Clarke and I can handle her.” He meant it to sound playful, maybe a little sexual to make Abby take everything about the marriage less seriously. It came out entirely too serious.

Abby was silent for a moment too long, effectively ending the conversation.

“Pardon me,” Bellamy said respectfully. No sense in aggravating his in-laws before even getting married, especially when they already had a good working relationship, “I need to get back to my sister.”

“You’re now Chancellor,” Abby said suddenly, “you should be out among the Camp, tending to your people.”

“My people are in that hut, with my sister,” Bellamy explained, “besides, Clarke is out there now.”

“She needs your help. She’s exhausted,” Abby explained, “and it will do you good to be seen publicly doing things rather than hiding away in the hut all day.”

Bellamy narrowed his eyes at her. Abby had never been one for gossip. He didn’t understand why she was being so chatty, and so pushy about what she thought he should do. The camp would hold until Octavia was better, and would survive one more day without Bellamy running around and calling the shots. There was no way he was going to leave his sisters’ side, and Abby should know that.

Cold dread seized Bellamy’s heart as he realized what Abby was doing. She was distracting him.

“You think she’s going to die,” he realized. He was numb with shock. Bellamy hadn’t thought anything could be worse than letting Lexa and Clarke force him into getting married. He was wrong.

“Bellamy,” Abby said softly, reaching out to touch him, “she’s held on much longer than anyone else has, but she’s barely—”

“No!” Bellamy shouted, “no! You were going to keep me out here? Away from my sister?”

Good relationship or not, he slapped Abby’s hands away from his body and made towards the hut. His sister was not going to die. The medicine was going to be here, and Abby was going to cure Octavia so that she could get happily married. One of them deserved a happy ending.

“Bellamy wait! You have to be reasonable! She hasn’t been conscious for days, and even with medicine, the chances of her surviving are slim to none. You should go see Clarke, instead of being here and just waiting,” Abby offered.

Bellamy wanted to be sick. People would think he’d have nothing to be ashamed of for going to Clarke while his sister lay dying. What a cowardly thing to do.

“I will never abandon my sister,” Bellamy said, and even to his ears it almost sounded like a threat, “she will survive. She’s going to wake up, and she’s going to get better.”

“I hope you’re—” Abby was cut off by shouting, and a horn, from the gate.

“Grounders!” people were shouting, just beyond the sick hut. Several horns from outside of camp sounded. Bellamy’s heart leapt into his throat. Lexa had arrived.

A thought crossed his mind: had she brought the medicine? Or had she come to invade and take them hostage?

Abby was glancing between Bellamy and the sounds of the gathering crowd around the gate. Bellamy wanted to go sit with his sister and ignore the rest of the world, but instead he started moving towards the commotion.

As soon as he rounded the corner he saw a growing mass of people at the gates, staring out at the entry road as what appeared to be a small army of grounders approached. Lexa was at the front—at least Bellamy assumed it was her—she had her head covered with a hood and she was on a horse so big it looked like a small mountain.

 They were approaching slowly, without weapons drawn, and that eased Bellamy’s fears. He spotted the flash of Clarke’s blond hair at the other end of the crowd, and decided to let her find her own way to the front. People moved quickly for him, even though he had to ask them to step aside several times. Sometimes having a little authority was a good thing.

There were several horse-drawn wagons among Lexa’s group, and while all of the carts were covered, Bellamy desperately hoped they contained the medicine. Lexa halted her forces around 50 meters from the gates, and gave them some commands. She pulled back her hood in order to be heard better. There was no mistaking that tumble of brown hair, or the red choker that looked like an open wound at this distance. Bellamy belatedly wished someone would cut the Commander’s head off as soon as Octavia had her medicine. The woman had caused too much grief and suffering already.

Lexa’s people moved off of the main path, and to Bellamy’s surprise they started unpacking most of the carts. They were moving in and setting up a temporary camp of sorts.

“Grounders go home!” someone shouted.

Clarke slid up beside Bellamy, and she was breathing a little raggedly like she’d struggled to reach him, “People are scared to see so many grounders here,” she whispered.

“So lets show them there’s nothing to be scared of,” Bellamy whispered back. He reached out to grab Clarke’s hand to make it look like they were a united front, “Try not to cry this time.”

Clarke didn’t fight back as Bellamy tugged her forwards. They approached the gates together. The guards looked relieved to see them, having only a few of them versus the many grounders setting up camp just outside the walls. As she approached the gate herself, Lexa halted her horse and slid off so that she could approach on foot.

Bellamy waved the guards to open the gate, and put on a face that suggested everything was going okay. His people were scared, and the guards were holding too tightly to their weapons. He needed to prove to them quickly that there was nothing to be worried about—he hoped.

He held tightly to Clarke’s hand as Lexa walked up to them. She seemed more like a predator—like that panther that had attacked them during their first days on earth—than another human in an unfavorable scenario. She wasn’t even smiling, though Bellamy was used to that. Her look was blank but focused, as if she was holding judgement on the crowd. The blood symbols on her forehead looked a little faded, but probably better than his or Clarke’s looked.

A plan hit Bellamy almost as suddenly as the nausea induced from his plan. He dropped Clarke’s hand and spread his arms like he was actually happy to see Lexa. If she hadn’t brought the medicine he was going to wrap his arms around her neck and strangle her right then and there.

“Lexa!” he called loudly, hoping his voice would carry back to his people, “it’s so good to see you again.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, the only change in her calculating expression. Bellamy got close enough to touch her and grabbed her by the arm. He saw her go for her knife at her hip and slipped his hand down just as fast to grab her wrist.

“Follow my lead,” he hissed, and then swept Lexa off her feet. He dipped her back and kissed her hard, putting on a show for everyone watching. 

* * *

Lexa was frozen, one hand still on the handle of her knife, and the other clutching Bellamy’s shoulder for support. Kissing someone for show was terrible, Bellamy decided, especially when the other person was as stiff as a rock. He pulled away after what he hoped was a convincing length of time.

Instead of looking in control and calculating, Lexa was wide-eyed and she seemed to have trouble letting go of Bellamy’s shoulder. Bellamy’s skin crawled and he tried to subtly shrug off Lexa’s grip on his arm. She snatched her hand away like he’d burned her just as Clarke approached. Bellamy noticed Lexa’s guard sheathing their swords and realized that they’d been prepared to kill him if he’d threatened their Commander.

 “Lexa,” Clarke said civilly, stepping up beside Bellamy. She embraced Lexa in what looked like a warm hug, and kissed her cheek. Lexa returned the favor, but from both of them the action looked forced. Bellamy hoped at a distance it looked better.

“It is good to see my _niron_ again,” Lexa said. She’d recovered her neutral expression, and Bellamy wondered if she was blushing or if the colour in her face had been brought out by the cold. Clarke’s nose and cheeks were bright pink with chill, and he was sure he didn’t look much better.

“Did you bring the medicine?” Bellamy asked.

Lexa studied his face carefully, “I assume you have announced our engagement?”

“Yes,” Clarke informed her, “and Bellamy and I are now, legally, the leaders of our people. Just like you wanted.”

Lexa’s expression didn’t change. Bellamy wasn’t sure if she was smiling, or just uninterested.

“Despite your assurances that an engagement is a time of celebration, your people do not seem very happy. Allow me to give them something to smile about.”

“Did you bring it?” Bellamy asked again.

Instead of answering, Lexa walked past the two of them and headed for their camp. Clarke had to hurry to catch up, though it only took Bellamy two strides with his long legs. Lexa held her head high, proudly displaying the leather choker around her neck, and with her hair pulled back there was no mistaking the symbols on her forehead.

Even though everyone knew that Clarke and Bellamy were engaged to Lexa as well, Bellamy still heard gasps of shock, and saw people pointing between the three of them. It was one thing to hear it, but another to see three people engaged to one another right before their eyes.

“ _Skaikru_!” Lexa called loudly. Bellamy was always shocked by how well her voice carried, and how quickly people stopped whatever they were doing in order to listen to her.

“I understand if many of you have reservations about seeing me again. I will be the first to admit that our history has not always kept us as allies, and this may cause conflict between us. But know this—I love my _mana_ _houmons_ , and I love the culture they come from. I bring protection, and a promise of peace. With our two worlds coming together, and the love I have for my _mana houmons_ , I hope to bring in an era of peace in this region we call home. As a token of good faith, and a gesture of my love for my _houmons_ , I bring you the medicine from Mt Weather to heal your sick.”

It sounded a little heavy-handed to Bellamy, but he forced himself to keep smiling. Abby pushed her way to the front of the crowd and seemed taken aback with the presence of Lexa.

The single cart that had followed Lexa in, alongside her guards, held all of their medicine. Clarke nearly leapt into the cart and started rummaging through the vials to check the labels. Bellamy wanted to help her, but all he’d do would be to get in the way.

He stepped closer to Lexa, and hoped she felt uncomfortable.

“If my sister dies, this ends,” he informed her.

“If you end this, all of your people will die,” she hissed, “I wish to see your camp. Introduce me to your people. You asked me to make them like me, to prove my love for you. I have a lot of work to do. _Mafta op ai_.”

Bellamy was beginning to hate that phrase already.

Spending time with Lexa was the last thing Bellamy wanted to do. He needed to be with his sister. Clarke caught his eye from the back of the wagon and paused. She handed off the crate she was holding to Kane, and made her way over to Bellamy and Lexa.

“What’s going to happen?” she asked, glancing between the two of them.

“I am getting a tour of your camp. I want to assess how difficult it will be to get your people to the mountain,” Lexa explained, “and I want to show off our love for one another.”

Clarke barely kept the scowl from her face, “I need to help my mom with the medicine,” she looked up at Bellamy, “you’ll have to stay with her.”

“My sister,” Bellamy replied. That was the only explanation they should need.

“I’ll take care of her,” Clarke assured him, “my mom is already giving her medicine. I’ll find you when she wakes up.”

“Clarke,” Bellamy said louder than he intended, and took a moment to compose himself so his voice didn’t crack, “she’s going to wake up, right?”

Clarke was still keeping a distance between them that she shouldn’t be—even though they were fighting, they needed people to think they at least liked each other. Her face softened, “she’s in bad shape, but we’re going to do the best we can. I promise. And if anything… if anything changes you’ll be the first to know.”

“I won’t leave camp,” Bellamy assured her.

Clarke nodded and then jogged back to the wagon to collect another crate to take to the sick hut. Bellamy clenched and unclenched his fists.

A calloused hand touched his arm. He suppressed a shiver, and turned to face Lexa. His fiancé. His _other_ fiancé.

“Among my people we carry each others’ weapons, or hold hands to show our mutual affection and trust. What do your people do?” Lexa asked.

“Children hold hands,” Bellamy muttered. He couldn’t believe he and Clarke had just talked about how much they hated this and now Lexa was practically asking him to do it. But they had to put on a strong show for everything. It was critical to make everyone think the love between the three of them was genuine and mutual right now, or else they’d never believe it.

Bellamy grabbed her hand and Lexa’s other hand went to her knife again.

“You’re going to have to stop trying to stab me,” he told her.

“You should stop surprising me,” she hissed, and glanced down at their hands, “I thought this was something children did.”

“Children and idiots in love,” Bellamy explained. Lexa narrowed her eyes at him—he had no idea what that expression might mean—but she shifted her hand so their fingers were interlocked.

“We are idiots in love?” she said, and it sounded more like a rhetorical question so Bellamy didn’t bother answering. He tugged her along, and tried to pretend that he couldn’t feel everyone’s eyes watching the two of them and Lexa’s guard following, looking for any kind of weakness in the deception. Some people hid it well, taking discreet glances and getting on with their duties, while others were openly staring.

Lexa’s hand was surprisingly warm against his own. Bellamy wasn’t sure why he expected it to be cold—she was alive, therefore she should be warm—but he’d been expecting her to be cold to the touch. She felt too human right now, and the last thing he needed was to start thinking about Lexa as if she was anyone normal.

He showed her their garden, where they’d been growing vegetables to sustain themselves over the summer. He pointed out how they’d arranged accommodations, and how certain huts were for work, like the kitchen or the storage shed, and how others were for living spaces. The people from the Arc were used to living practically on top of one another, and even with all of the space around them, they were uncomfortable with taking up too much room. Many families were living together, though in the hot summer some people had even been sleeping out under the stars. Now, with the cold, people were electing to share smaller and smaller homes in order to preserve heat.

Lexa remained silent the entire time. She was studying everything, taking it all in with her intelligent gaze, and Bellamy couldn’t read any of her expressions. Expression, singular. She seemed to have only one neutral look that could shift to a more pleasant neutral, or an annoyed neutral. Or that one face she’d had when he was sure she was about to kill him while they were negotiating the marriage arrangements. Otherwise she was an absolutely blank slate.

“Will you introduce me to your people? As your… fiancé?” Lexa asked.

“I already did,” Bellamy replied. He was taking her past the wonderful sight of their latrine corner. It reeked something awful, and they needed to dig a new hole or empty this one, but there was no space for a new one and everyone was hesitant to leave the camp walls. Emptying it wasn’t a pleasant idea either, and something that Bellamy had been putting off because he figured he’d be the one to have to do it. Lexa didn’t even scowl at the smell.

“I wasn’t here for that celebration. Shouldn’t I be honored just as much as Clarke was?” Lexa said.

Bellamy laughed, “Trust me, no one was honored. We spent all of last night in the sick hut.”

“Are you sick?” Lexa asked quickly.

Bellamy shook his head, “My sister is. And so are many of our people.”

“That’s it over there?” Lexa asked, nodding towards the sick hut. Even now that there was medicine in the camp it looked like there was an invisible barrier around the hut that no one was willing to cross.

Bellamy was about to confirm when Lexa strode forwards, pulling him along behind her. People leapt out of her way. Some of them looked terrified, and others looked spiteful.  Bellamy didn’t call out the whispers of ‘traitor’ or ‘savage’ he heard behind him. He wasn’t sure how he was going to handle someone publicly calling Lexa out, and hoped that his people would stick to their masked politeness and angry whispers that they were so fond of on the Arc.

“You show such compassion to your people,” Lexa muttered, “I must be sure to do the same if I want their loyalty.”

Bellamy wanted to warn her that the sickness was contagious—not that it had stopped him—but decided against it. Like Lincoln she was probably immune, and he didn’t really care if she got sick. 

* * *

Lexa strolled into the hut like she was walking into war. Her shoulders were up, and she stayed rigid as her head swiveled back and forth to take in her surroundings.

A little girl on a cot near the door burst into tears, pointing at Lexa. She looked absolutely terrified and an older girl, too young to be the mother, put a protective arm around the girl and pulled her back from Lexa.

“Grounder!” someone else screamed, and Bellamy saw one man throw himself out of his cot.

None of this seemed to faze Lexa, and she ignored all of the sick until she spotted Clarke in the crowd. Both Clarke and Abby were hustling, administering medicine with the equipment Lexa had brought with her from Mt Weather. Lincoln was still standing over Octavia, and Bellamy forgot about being Lexa’s escort and rushed to his sister’s side.

“How is she?” he demanded.

Lincoln was still dabbing at Octavia’s forehead, and she still looked as pale and sickly as she had before.

“It’s barely been an hour,” Lincoln informed him, “since she got the medicine, but I think her fever is breaking.”

Bellamy instinctively reached out and pressed the back of his hand to Octavia’s forehead. Where Lincoln had been touching her with the cool cloth her skin was chilled, but underneath it all he could still feel the heat from her fever. It seemed to have cooled down since the last time he’d checked on her.

The breath he didn’t know he was holding rushed out of him.

“Has she woken up?” Bellamy asked.

Lincoln shook his head. He was looking past Bellamy, wary and he looked more tense than Bellamy had seen him in a long time. Glancing over his shoulder confirmed that Lincoln was watching Lexa speak with Clarke and Abby. Bellamy didn’t like having his back to her, but he trusted that Lincoln would tell him if Lexa tried anything.

Bellamy ran the back of his knuckles down Octavia’s face. Her throat was still swollen just under her jawline, and he could still feel the rattle in her lungs every time she breathed. Was that supposed to be cleared up? He wasn’t a doctor. Why weren’t the real doctors checking on her?

“Abby!” Bellamy called, “I need you to check on Octavia!”

For a moment Bellamy worried that Clarke would come instead, but thankfully Clarke was busy trying to convince some people that Lexa wasn’t there to hurt them, while Lexa continued doing a great impersonation of a statue. 

“What’s wrong?” Abby asked. She sounded like she’d been running for hours, and Bellamy realized that maybe she had been. Bellamy pointed out all the things he’d noticed that were still wrong with Octavia, finishing with the most important: why hadn’t his sister woken up yet?

Abby looked at him like he’d said something stupid, “Bellamy, these things take time. Octavia has the best chance she can have now, and she’s going to have round-the-clock care. Her swelling will go down, and it’s likely she’s developed pneumonia. We have ways to treat that. As for her sleeping, the poor girl is probably exhausted. I’ll make sure you know if anything changes, okay? Don’t worry so much, let me do my job.”

Bellamy felt embarrassed, and looked back down at his sister for comfort.

“My fiancé cares very much for his sister,” Lexa said from over Bellamy’s shoulder as she approached, “it’s one of the things I love about him.”

Abby looked uncomfortable, and Bellamy didn’t blame her. Her gaze jumped between him, Lexa and Clarke across the room.

“Thanks,” Bellamy said to Lexa, and forced a smile.

“It’s good to appreciate one another’s’ qualities,” Abby said civilly.

“Yes,” Lexa agreed, “that is how we are in love. Because we are getting married.”

Abby glanced between Bellamy and Lexa, and Bellamy avoided meeting her gaze because otherwise he would confirm that he found Lexa’s behavior really weird too. Maybe she was having trouble phrasing things properly in English, or her English was a little different than Arc English when it came to these sorts of phrases.

“Yes,” Abby nodded, “congrats on your… engagement. But if both of you don’t mind, I have a lot of sick to care for still, and I can’t be wasting time or having you in my way. I’ll be sure to inform you if she wakes up,” Abby gestured to Octavia.

“I’m not leaving her side again,” Bellamy held Abby’s gaze. Just earlier she’d been trying to keep him away from his sister because she might be dying. He wasn’t going to forget that.

“There is work to be done,” Lexa reminded him. Bellamy wished she would just go away. Abby and Lexa were both staring him down, ready to fight him if Bellamy stayed with his sister. He wanted to fight back, but that was a stupid choice. At least Lincoln would be with Octavia.

“Okay,” Bellamy nodded, “I… I have to start making orders for people to pack. We need to be leaving for Mt Weather soon.”

“No one here is ready for that kind of travel, not yet,” Abby said.

“How long do we need to wait?” Bellamy asked, “it’s only going to get colder. Won’t it be easier to treat everyone once they’re out of the cold?”

“The walk alone could kill them,” Abby shook her head, “I… I don’t know. We don’t have enough stretchers, or sleds to pull people on…”

“I have carts, and horses,” Lexa added, “surely I can be of some help.”

Abby seemed surprised by Lexa’s offer, “Yes… that will make it easier, but it won’t be good for them. We should wait until most are better.”

“What about Octavia?” Bellamy asked. No one would leave until she was well enough to be transported.

Abby held up her hands, “I don’t know. She’s responding well, and she might be fine if we move her, or it could make her worse. The same goes for everyone else who is sick.”

Bellamy weighed both choices in his mind. Octavia was already on the mend apparently, and she’d been deathly ill just this morning. But he wanted to get into Mt Weather as soon as possible before Lexa could potentially change her mind.

“How soon can you have everyone ready to travel? Tomorrow?” he asked.

Abby looked shocked, “Tomorrow? No, oh god no. The day after. Maybe. But I don’t think we can make it in one day, with everyone and all of our supplies.”

“No,” Lexa agreed, “it will take a long day, possibly two. But we will take an easy route, and there will be no one opposing us so it should not be difficult for the sick or injured.”

“Good,” Bellamy said, “the day after tomorrow. I’ll go announce it now.”

Abby nodded, mouth drawn into a tight line. She motioned for both Bellamy and Lexa to stay and then looked around for her daughter.

“Clarke,” Abby called, “can you go check if there’s more syringes in the wagon?”

Clarke glanced up to acknowledge her mother, too focused on her task to recognize the obvious distraction, and then left the hut.

Abby watched the door for a few seconds before turning to Lexa and stepping into the Commander’s space, “I know that Clarke has forgiven you, and I thank you for bringing us the medicine, but you’ll have to forgive me for thinking that my daughter is making a mistake marrying you.”

“You would be a fool to just ignore our history,” Lexa replied calmly, as if she’d been expecting this attack.

“The only reason I’m not calling this entire thing into question is that I love my daughter, and I trust her to follow her heart. That, and,” Abby pointed right at Bellamy, “I know he is a good man, and if both Clarke and Bellamy can see some good in you, then I think you might just turn out to be a good person after all.”

Lexa was silent a moment, absorbing Abby’s words. Bellamy’s gut twisted at the irony of Abby’s speech, and also because he was hoping Lexa wouldn’t kill Abby.

“Thank you for your honesty,” Lexa finally said, “and as you can see I love my fiancés. You have no need to worry, because I love them.” She reached out and grabbed Bellamy’s hand, entwining their fingers again.

Bellamy swallowed his disgust and met Abby’s gaze, squeezing Lexa’s hand tightly, “Don’t worry about it. Love brings out the best in us.” 

They left the sick hut holding hands. Several people were watching them from around the camp. Bellamy wasn’t sure if it was because of him and Lexa wearing their engagement items, or because of Lexa’s armed guard that was following them through the camp.

“I didn’t realize your people were so faring so poorly,” Lexa said quietly, “I thought you would have been doing much better, for all your talk of wanting to reclaim the earth.”

“We’re doing the best we can,” Bellamy replied, “this is all new to us.”

Lexa turned her head to glare at him as they walked to the main stage, “You should have come to me much sooner. I don’t know how many of your people will make the trek to _Maun-de_ in this state. I expected to be here for a few days, and I don’t know if it will be cleared by the time we arrive.”

“As long as there’s enough room for my people, then we can help when we get there,” Bellamy said. He wasn’t sure why he was feeling like a child being scolded. He didn’t like the feeling at all.

They got to the platform, and Bellamy shook off Lexa’s hand in order to reach the bell. It rang loud and clear in the crisp air, halting activity and drawing everyone’s attention. They’d rang it a lot in the last few days, but thankfully people still put down whatever they were doing and came to hear him talk. He saw lots of curious—and angry—looks cast towards Lexa, who was standing beside him like Clarke had been just last night when they announced their engagement.

“I’m sure you’re all getting sick of that bell,” Bellamy tried to joke, “and you’re wondering what happens next, with the grounders camping right outside our walls. Last night Clarke and I promised you peace, along with our other fiancé, Lexa. She brought her people, and the medicine we need, in order to bring us all to Mt Weather where we are going to live for the winter, together!”

There wasn’t a triumphant cry like he’d hoped, or much of a cheer at all.

Bellamy took a breath to slow himself down, and continued into the silence, “Chancellor Griffin and Councilwoman Griffin are hard at work in the sick hut making our people healthy. I want to be able to leave camp as soon as they say their patients are ready to move, and I’m hoping that will be by tomorrow morning.”

“We can’t just abandon the Arc!” a young woman called. There were murmurs of agreement.

“The Arc has been our home for most of our lives—for generations—but now earth is our home. And earth is going to freeze with the coming winter, and we need to move to better shelter. In the summer we might come back here, but for now all of us are going to live in Mt Weather. We will be safe and sheltered there.”

“Live with grounders? I’d rather freeze!” an older man snapped. Bellamy bit back his response of ‘go ahead’.

“Why can’t we live in the dropship? It’s still intact! We can stay warm there!” someone offered. There was a rousing chorus of agreement and Bellamy wanted to tell everyone how stupid they were being. They didn’t seem to understand that it was only going to get colder. Bellamy could hardly believe it himself. He tried to remember that the adults had a harder time adjusting to the constant changes that Earth life required.

“This isn’t a debate,” he said instead, struggling to keep his voice calm, “as Chancellor, I am ordering you. You need to start packing everything you can carry, and find the means to transport it. This will mean tents or some form of shelter, as the trip is going to be long. You need to stay warm!”

“I never voted for you!” a woman shouted, “I’m not going anywhere with the savages!”

“You will die if you don’t,” Lexa said loudly. All eyes, including Bellamy’s, snapped to her. She was staring out at the crowd with that unreadable face, though Bellamy wondered if she was picking out people to try and kill later on. He’d have to keep a close eye on her.

“I understand your apprehension about living with my people. They are nervous to be socializing with the people we were once at war with. My _niron_ and I do not expect trust to happen overnight, not with the history between our people. But we hope that you can be inspired by our love, and we can come together as a stronger nation under the mountain.”

It sounded like a nice enough explanation. Better than what Bellamy wanted to say, at least. He had to remember that Lexa had been leader of her people for much longer than he had. She had lots of practice for putting on a fake smile and making people obey her. In the crowd Bellamy could see some people nodding in understanding, but many more furrowing their brows and frowning in outright hostility. He felt like they were building for a clash between their people, and hoped that their anger would die out in the face of the hard work they were going to have to endure to make it to Mt Weather.

Bellamy decided to remind them of that, and to have the final say before dismissing his people. He didn’t want to give Lexa the power to order his people around, “We leave as soon as possible. Bring everything you can, but only if you can carry it. It’s a long walk, with all of our essentials, so be sure to stay warm,” he debated his thoughts for a moment before continuing, “if you’re so opposed to leaving, then you are free to stay, but you will die if you do. As Chancellor I have made a decision that I think is in your best interests, and I hope you come along with me.”

It was a lackluster speech, and a little depressing, but he wasn’t interested in impressing people. Bellamy was exhausted and he needed to pack his and Octavia’s things and start making plans for how they were going to transport their entire life to Mt Weather. He wanted to sleep for a few days.

Lexa was staring at him with her laser-focused eyes, and Bellamy couldn’t decide if she was angry or sizing him up. He renegotiated with himself—he’d rather deal with all of the work awaiting him than stay engaged to her. He avoided meeting her eyes by looking out at the dispersing crowd. He kept Lexa in the corner of his eye.

“Until we have a singular camp under the mountain, we will be leading two separate camps,” Lexa commented, watching the Arc people slowly shuffle away. Some of them were talking with raised voices about their unhappiness. Many were nodding in agreement.

“That might be for the best. Hopefully it will keep people from fighting until we’re at Mt Weather,” Bellamy replied.

“Tonight will be mostly quiet,” Lexa said in agreement, “our first night on the road will be the worst. There will be no defined lines between the two groups, and they will clash over space and out of fear of the unknown.”

If he had been talking to Clarke he knew she would protest and try to argue that fighting might not happen. He was happy that Lexa was more realistic.

“People are stupid,” Bellamy agreed.

“In which camp will we be staying tonight? I’m not sure if one sends a better message, or which is least likely to protest,” Lexa said.

Bellamy furrowed his brow and turned away from his view of the camp to look at her, “We?” he asked.

“Yes,” Lexa looked at him like he was missing the obvious, “you, myself, and Clarke. We are promised to one another. Where are we sleeping tonight? I will fetch my things.”

“We’re not—what” Bellamy raced to catch up with his mouth, “we don’t live together until we’re married. We’re just engaged right now. There’s no ‘we’ staying anywhere. I live with my sister and Lincoln, and Clarke is staying with her mom right now.”

“Your people may wait until the marriage ceremony, but in the eyes of my people we are promised. If this were a political marriage they would not question separate lodges until after the marriage, but if you want them to think we love one another then we must live together now. To be sharing a camp and not a bed is a bad omen for love,” Lexa explained.

“I don’t want to share a bed with you or Clarke,” Bellamy told her. He hadn’t expected this to happen so soon. It was going to be a few weeks still before a proper marriage ceremony could happen. There was supposed to be enough time for Bellamy to prepare himself to having new roommates. He’d never lived with anyone long-term other than his mother, Lincoln and Octavia.

Lexa narrowed her eyes, and Bellamy guessed that she was calling him an idiot in her head, “We will stay in mine. It may encourage your people to be more trusting if their leaders stay in my camp,” Lexa told him, “my bed should be large enough—and warm enough too.”

“I’m not doing that,” Bellamy muttered. He wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight, but the little he did he wanted to get in his own bed.

“If you love your people you will. I am not asking you for love or sex, just that you keep up this foolish illusion that you demanded in the first place,” Lexa growled.

Bellamy grit his teeth and stared Lexa down. He wanted to make sure she understood he wasn’t afraid of her. He wasn’t surprised that she’d wanted them to stay in her camp. It was safer for her to be among her people. On the other hand, Bellamy didn’t want to invite Lexa into his home with Octavia and Lincoln. That was one space he wouldn’t make room for anyone else in.

“Fine,” Bellamy snapped. He sounded like a child, and he felt just as unreasonable.

Come to think of it, was there some sort of benefit for Lexa if Clarke and Bellamy stayed with her, away from their own camp and people? They would be isolated, and vulnerable in their sleep. Lexa could very well be planning on killing them and then taking over the camp.

That was ridiculous, Bellamy reasoned. Lexa had brought the medicine, along with her army. If she’d truly wanted to take over then she could have overthrown them already, and it didn’t make sense to waste medical resources on people you were going to kill. Plus, she’d seen how little they had and had to know there was nothing worth fighting over.

“I’ve got a lot to do,” Bellamy said, “do you need to keep following me?”

He sounded angrier then he wanted to sound, but didn’t apologize for it.

“No,” Lexa said smoothly, “I have my own work to attend to. Be sure to be packed for travel before you come to my tent. We have a long way to go, and the days are growing shorter. _Sekenomon_ asks for one more day before we travel, but I fear we might not have the luxury of time.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * _Sekenomon_ \- a title for Abby. From the words _seken_ and _nomon_ , literally meaning ‘second mother’. In reference to Abby’s ability to cure reapers. In the eyes of the grounders she brought the dead back to life. 
> 
> Bellamy thinks he’s so self-aware. ‘His emotions can get the better of him if he’s not careful’. Stop lying to yourself Bells, you’ve already played yourself. The irony that he thinks he’s aware and yet he’s lashing out at Clarke at nearly every chance he gets, and doesn’t realize that’s why she’s sad? Oh Bellamy, you’re sweet, you’re smart, but sometimes you are a Dick.
> 
> In this chapter, and in the story as a whole, I wanted to emphasize how weird siblings are to the Arc people. I’m sure if any of you have a sibling you understand Bellamy’s struggle right now. As an older sibling myself, I can assure you that if people were trying to keep me from my deathly ill sibs I’d burn the place down to save them. But! The Arc people have no concept of that special sibling bond! To them it’s really weird and vaguely-romantic, because they really don’t have anything to compare it to. 
> 
> And Lexa! She’s so delightfully awkward when she’s trying to be showy with affection and romance. I’ve noticed a trend in fandom to paint Lexa as very naïve to things outside her realm of knowledge, and while it’s cute I always found that it detracted from how damn smart this woman is. So this is a case of Lexa, master of her emotions, believer in ‘love is weakness’, trying to pretend she’s affectionate and in love when she’s never had to pretend or fake emotions in her life. (She’s great at hiding emotions, but showing them??) Contrast this to Clarke and Bellamy who grew up in a strict society that was constantly on the verge of breaking down. They’ve got a bit more practice in pretending to be things that they aren’t, and faking emotions like happiness in the face of everything going to hell. 
> 
> And I’m also continuing Bellamy’s (and Clarke’s) conflict of growing up in a society that believes you can only truly ever love one person/there’s only one Happily Ever After. We’ll get more into why that’s the case in a few chapters, but the effects are a bit more subtle here. As I said above, the Arc people have no concept of sibling relationships, and even though the Blake siblings are, obviously, siblings, they have no idea how to compare their relationship to one another, to other people. As we’ve seen in the show Octavia is a little more distant from Bellamy—she doesn’t feel like she belongs with the Arc people and arguably he was her only tie to them (until she made friends), but also she sees Bellamy as more of a parental figure. He’s been the biggest influence in her whole life, and the only reason she isn’t more traumatized and unsociable than she already is, is probably because Bellamy loves her so much. She also absorbed a lot less Arc cultures because, as a second child, she never left their room until the day she was put in solitary. That put her in a position to be able to fall in love with Lincoln, and still love her brother. On the other hand, Bellamy loves his sister so wholly that he can’t actually distinguish it from One True Love and the platonic sibling love—back to the idea that Arc people have no concept of siblings—so in Bellamy’s mind, since he’s only allowed to truly love one person in his whole life, it’s obviously Octavia. 
> 
> This is going to cause some conflict for the marriage. 
> 
> I love to hear from y’all. What do you think about Abby’s actions, or about how Bellamy’s reacting? Or Lexa? Why on earth does she want to be married so bad?
> 
> I’ll see ya Saturday for the next chapter!


	8. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Season 3 continues to do it’s thang, and while I don’t agree with a lot of the choices, instead of getting mad I just keep working on this fic. Bells, being a human punching bag is not a healthy way to be a big brother omfg. No matter how much you feel you deserve it, is not your job!
> 
>  As for updates—I’m hoping to get this story to a place where I’m comfortable putting it on a small hiatus while I deal with the move, but I’m going to keep it on a week-by-week notice until I know for certain that I can make that goal. As for this week, there will be another chapter next week!
> 
> Big warm thank you’s to everyone who’s reviewed this story! I love hearing back from all of you, even if you’re just going ‘whaaaat?!’ or ‘nice!’.

 

There was so much to do, and not enough time to get it all done. While leading the 100 Clarke had found the group at large to be a little stupid. They all panicked or reacted like simple-minded animals, while one-on-one they were an impressive and resourceful lot. She’d longed for the Arc to come down just for the fact that adults had to be smarter and more capable of fending for themselves. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

She’d been helping her mother in the Sick Bay—Hut—and keeping track of the changes in the recovering. Many of the sick had developed pneumonia, and many of them were still very weak with dehydration and being unable to eat for a few days. Clarke hadn’t left when the bell for assembly rang, or even when she heard the faint sounds of Bellamy’s voice or people arguing with him. She hadn’t even stepped out when Lexa had spoken, and after the crowd dispersed. They’d made the announcement to pack up and leave, she assumed, and people were mad about it. Miller, who’d been helping all morning since the medicine had arrived, ran back into the Sick Hut after the meeting.

“We’re leaving tomorrow,” he announced, “that’s what Chancellor Blake and the Grounder Chancellor said.”

“Commander,” Clarke corrected before she could stop herself.

“Tomorrow?” her mother shouted, “I said we needed at least another day! Clarke, we can’t transport people by tomorrow. It’s too risky—you need to talk to Bellamy before he gets ahead of himself.”

Great, Clarke sighed, another reason for her and Bellamy to be butting heads.

“Okay,” Clarke said, “I’ll be right back.”

Clarke nearly ran into a Grounder who walked into the Sick Bay just as she was leaving. He was as tall as he was wide. He wasn’t familiar to her, which was strange. Clarke was sure she knew all of Lexa’s personal warriors. His skin was as dark as Indra’s, but his beard was nearly blonde. Clarke had never seen something like that.

“ _Wanheda_ ,” He greeted, bowing his head in respect.

“What do you want?” Clarke asked nervously.

“ _Heda_ has chosen me to protect you!” his enthusiasm caught her off guard. She’d never seen a grounder grin ear-to-ear like that.

“I don’t need Lexa’s protection, let alone amongst my own people,” Clarke explained, “you can tell her that.”

“I am under orders,” he pleaded, “ _Heda_ will be very upset if you send me away. She wants to keep her _niron_ safe.”

Clarke groaned, “Fine,” she sighed, “just stay back from me. And do _not_ draw your weapon on anyone.”

“Yes, _Wanheda_ ,” he nodded.

Clarke furrowed her brow, “Why don’t I know you?” she asked.

“I was among those who were held prisoner by the Mountain Men,” he stopped to spit on the ground at the name of their old enemies, “we did not get a chance to meet. It is an honor to serve you, Mountain Slayer.”

The reminder of the moment Lexa betrayed her, and the cold fear of being all alone against an impossible enemy made Clarke feel sick. She didn’t want to think about the hundreds of bodies she’d left behind.

“Don’t call me that,” she ordered, “now, what’s your name?”

He bowed again, “I am Polarishka-Tsarin-Mylemfae, the junior.”

“That…” Clarke couldn’t think of a kind way to explain that she was never going to remember a name like that.

“I am often called Po,” he offered.

She sighed gratefully, “Okay, Po. It’s nice to meet you. Try not to cause any trouble.” 

* * *

Clarke was mobbed only a few feet from the door. People were still wary of the Sick Bay, but apparently their anger was making them brave, or just reckless.

“We can’t leave our home!” a woman shouted.

Someone else in the crowd was asking Clarke how they were going to take the Arc with them, and another wanted to know how Clarke was going to protect them from the savages. Clarke made an effort not to glance at Po to see how he was taking the insults.

“Hold on!” Clarke shouted, “I need to speak with Bellamy first, but, uh, keep packing like he ordered. We will be leaving soon, just maybe not as soon as he said.”

It took her over half an hour to find Bellamy. She couldn’t get anywhere without a crowd forming around her, asking her more questions and how they were supposed to pack and what they should bring and what she was going to do because they couldn’t be expected to carry everything they owned!

Raven’s face appeared in the crowd as well.

“It’s true?” she asked, “we’re going to Mt Weather with the grounders?”

Raven was trying to keep her face passive, but Clarke knew Raven too well to be fooled. She was angry.

“Yes,” Clarke said, and tried to be as curt as possible. Now was not the time to plead for her friend to understand, “it’s the best place for us, and Lexa will make sure we get there safely.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed, and Clarke noticed her skin looked pale. She wondered if Raven was afraid of living in close contact with Lexa again—or if she was pale from trying to contain her rage. Raven was not a supporter of Clarke and Bellamy’s engagement, but she hadn’t done anything about it just yet.

“I’ll get packing then,” Raven said, and she turned away without another word.

It broke Clarke’s heart that she hadn’t had time to talk to Raven. She wished she could share everything, have someone to confess to, someone who she could trust, but she had to keep up the act of a happy engagement. Raven wouldn’t put up with that kind of lie, if Raven ever put up with her again.

Clarke finally found Bellamy in the privacy of his own home.

Clarke didn’t knock and quickly shut the door behind herself so that no one could try and follow her in to keep arguing with her about Bellamy’s decisions—the fear of her new Grounder guard hadn’t appeared to keep them at bay.

His home was styled just the same as many of the others—including her mothers’—a single room that made up bedroom and living space. It was very Arc to have only one multipurpose room, though many Arc homes also had tables and chairs for social gatherings, but on earth people tended not to stay indoors very long. They’d even cut out a window, though it was boarded up now to ward off the cold. Clarke had been a little curious if there would be one, two or three beds for Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln, and it looked like at one point there might have been two separate beds, but with the cold the three of them had been sharing one large one. Not that it had been slept in lately, with all of them spending most of their time in the sick hut now.

Bellamy had been in the middle of folding up some clothes. He looked angry that Clarke had just barged into his home without warning.

She decided to just get right to the problem, “Why did you say tomorrow? My mom told you we can’t leave that early!”

“Keep your voice down,” Bellamy said, like Clarke was a child to be scolded. It made her blood boil.

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped, “now tell me what’s going on?”

“Lexa,” Bellamy said, and that was almost a good enough explanation, “it’s going to be a long trip, and she’s right that the longer we wait, the more people are going to die of exposure.”

“You’re taking _her_ side?” Clarke couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “when my mother—our medical advisor—told you that we need at least one more day? If we leave tomorrow people _will_ die, because you forced us to move them before they were ready. Are you sure you want to live with that?”

“People are going to die either way,” Bellamy said matter-of-factly. He’d gotten to his feet and walked to stand in front of her. She knew that Bellamy tended to get in the face of anyone he was arguing with—he was aggressively confrontational like that.

“But Lexa knows the right thing to do?” Clarke said.

Bellamy looked disgusted to be associated with her, and for that Clarke was grateful, “No, but the sooner we get into Mt Weather the sooner we can stop worrying about her not letting us in. I don’t trust her to hold her end of the bargain, not until our people are safe. We may have to drive hard to get there, but if we don’t make it to the mountain then we’re _all_ going to be dead.”

Clarke closed her eyes for a moment to think. She hadn’t seen that angle—and it made sense. Bellamy wasn’t always a headstrong leader who jumped the gun. He had good foresight and intuition.

“There’s no one for Lexa to bargain with to turn on us,” Clarke assured him, “she won’t break her promise. We’re going to get into Mt Weather, but we need just a little more time before we go.”

Bellamy shrugged, crossing his arms across his chest, “To be honest I don’t think the camp will be ready to go by tomorrow anyways. Just as soon as possible. You might not think she’ll betray us, but she got you before. It’s a long way to Mt Weather, and anything could happen.”

Clarke clenched her fists and counted to five before she let the insult slide away. She’d been foolish and trusting before, out of hope and being naïve. Never again. She focused her attention on her surroundings to let the intense emotions bleed out of her.

There were papers stuck to the walls—all filled with drawings and notes and writing. She recognized Trigedasleng, though she could only speak it, and recognized many of the pictures from Lincoln’s journal. Or, at least, Clarke recognized the style of the portraits from Lincoln’s journal because most of the drawings were new to her. Many of them were of Octavia, and the camp and people in the camp. There was even a few of Bellamy, and of Bellamy and Octavia together. It was like a collage of photographs. Bellamy shifted his weight on his feet and the rustle of his clothes brought Clarke’s attention back to him.

“I’m not trusting her,” Clarke explained, “I’m trusting her character. The Commander’s word is binding, and Lexa has nothing to gain from the mountain without us. She’s conniving, but right now we’re her best option for power and I trust that to keep her loyal to us.”

“Well you can sleep beside her if you trust her so much,” Bellamy muttered.

“What?” Clarke turned to face him quickly.

“We’re sleeping with her tonight,” Bellamy said.

“What?” Clarke replied, in a slightly higher note, “but we’re only engaged!”

Bellamy was looking at her like it was all her fault, and really, Clarke supposed, it was. “It’s a Grounder thing,” he explained, “Lexa said that if we have to make her people think we’re in love then we have to start living together now.”

Clarke felt a knot of panic in her stomach at the thought of being that close to Lexa. Of having to let her guard down to sleep in front of her, in a place that was uniquely Lexa and everything Clarke longed not to be.

What if Lexa wanted to touch her, or even tried to kiss her again? People didn’t need love to have sex—Bellamy seemed to live by that motto—but Clarke had always been a little more reserved in that sense. She’d grown up with married parents. Marriage—love—had always seemed inevitable to her, and the reality of a future without it was giving her cold feet.

Besides she… she just wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy with another person. Two other people.

“When,” she cleared her throat to try again and hoped her voice didn’t sound as pathetic to Bellamy as it sounded to her, “when are you going over there?”

Bellamy shook his head and stepped back, as if to gesture to the space around them with his body, “I have to get this packed up, and all of O’s things. And then I’m staying with my sister until she wakes up.”

“And the camp,” Clarke was thinking ahead now, “we need to start organizing, and loading some of Lexa’s wagons. We might not get a chance to sleep tonight.”

“That’s the plan,” Bellamy agreed.

“Okay,” Clarke nodded, “I… I can be packed quickly. I’ll go talk to my mom and let her know, and then you and I need to start directing people.”

“Fine,” Bellamy said, and then knelt down to get back to folding up clothes. Clarke wondered if he was going to miss his little home here. She hadn’t stayed in Camp Jaha enough to really form an attachment to it beyond the fact that it was where her people were. She would miss it, but not any part of it specifically.

For a moment Clarke thought about asking Bellamy how he felt about moving back into Mt Weather. About how he felt seeing the corpses of everyone they had killed again. But she was silent too long, and he’d already started ignoring her presence. This was the first time a conversation between them hadn’t ended with each of them furious at one another in a while, and she wanted to leave on as positive terms as she could.

* * *

Her mother was less than reasonable about the demands.

“Clarke I can’t stress enough what a terrible idea it is to move any of these people!” she said.

Clarke had to keep her voice steady, “Get them as prepared as you can. We have to leave camp soon, for the sake of us all.”

To her surprise, her mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, “Baby, I know… what I said about there not being any good guys left—you don’t have to be hard. You don’t have to be the villain to save everyone.”

Too late, Clarke thought. If only you knew what I’ve already done.

“I’m not being moral, I’m being realistic,” Clarke argued, “we need to move before it gets colder. Or we all die. So do what you need to here. Would you like me to pack for you?”

Her mother paused a moment, looking into Clarke’s face for something Clarke wished she could still offer to her, “Okay, yes, I’d appreciate that. I have a lot to do here.”

“I’ll be back to help as soon as I can,” Clarke assured her.

As she was leaving Monty waved to catch her attention.

“What’s going on?” she asked, “is it Octavia?”

Monty’s face was flushed, but it didn’t appear to be from sickness, “No,” he said, “I, um, I have something I need to tell you.”

Clarke nodded to encourage him to go on. He picked at the edge of his blanket and looked everywhere but at her face.

“Monty,” Clarke snapped, and regretted it instantly. She didn’t mean to be cross with him, but there was so much that she still needed to do and sitting around watching him fidget was not helping.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke said. She sat down on the edge of his bed, “I’m just a little stressed out.”

“Maybe this isn’t a good time then,” Monty said through clenched teeth.

“You look like you’re about to tell me something awful,” Clarke agreed, “there’s no time like the present.”

Monty reached out to take Clarke’s hand between his own. He had warm hands, though thankfully not feverishly warm anymore.

“Clarke,” he said earnestly, and now he was looking her in the eyes, “I need to apologize to you.”

Clarke racked through her memory to try and think of when Monty had ever let her down. Could he be referring to Mt Weather? For giving her the ability to kill hundreds of men, women and children? Allies, friends, lovers and enemies, all gone because Monty had done what she’d ordered him to do.

“No, no,” Clarke started saying, “no you don’t have to—”

“I had sex with Bellamy,” Monty let out in one quick breath, he took a shuddering breath and strained himself to continue holding her gaze, “while you were gone. And I need to beg your forgiveness.”

Shock hit Clarke like she’d been electrocuted. She didn’t know how to respond. This was not the conversation she expected to be having.

“I didn’t know you two were in love, and I never would have even considered sleeping with him if I’d known you two were going to be engaged. I am so sorry, and I’m a terrible friend, and I hope you can forgive me!” Monty was still babbling, though Clarke barely heard him.

She had to stifle a laugh.

“Monty,” she said slowly, making sure not to crack, “I forgive you. It’s okay.”

Monty let out a sigh so big it shook his entire body. He dropped his head down onto his wrists, and for a moment Clarke worried he was going to kiss her hand.

“Thank you,” Monty sounded relieved like this had been keeping him up for days, “but, um, Clarke… I need to apologize to Lexa too, right?”

Oh, Clarke realized, that’s why he was so nervous.

“No,” Clarke said quickly, “no, you don’t have to talk to her at all. Grounders, um, look at things a little different than we do. Lexa won’t understand why you’re apologizing to her. But, uh, trust me. It’s okay.”

“Oh, thank god,” and this time he did kiss the back of her hand.

Clarke looked around if only to distract herself from the surreal conversation she’d wandered into. Lincoln was watching from nearby, and to her surprise he looked like he was smiling at her. Lincoln never smiled at anything.

* * *

Po walked right on her heels now, and shouted to scare people back so that Clarke could actually move through the camp. He wasn’t actually angry, just incredibly loud, but it was scary to anyone who didn’t know him. She wished there was a different way—her people were just scared and confused, which made them angry and stupid, and Po’s presence was aggravating them further—but she also desperately wanted to be away from the angry faces and accusing voices and in the safety of her mother’s home.

Harper braved Po’s presence to fall in line with Clarke’s stride.

“I need to tell you something,” she whispered urgently.

Clarke nodded and pointed in the direction they were walking, “Okay, my house is just up ahead—”

“I slept with Bellamy while you were gone—and before that. It never meant anything, and I didn’t know you two were in love. I’m really sorry,” Harper blurted out.

Clarke almost tripped over her own feet.

“It’s…” Clarke wanted to ask _why_ everyone seemed keen to tell her about all of their nights of passion with Bellamy all of a sudden, but it was a stupid question and she kept her mouth shut.

“It’s okay,” she finally said. Harper looked like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, “thanks for letting me know,” Clarke added as an afterthought.

A group of people were waiting at Clarke’s home, and while Po chased off most of them, two of them bravely stayed long enough to also confess to having slept with Bellamy and begged for Clarke’s forgiveness. They weren’t any of her friends—sent down in the dropship—so she didn’t know them well enough to remember their names. By the time she sent them on their way and got inside, Clarke was beginning to worry that at this rate the entire camp would end up apologizing to her for something she really didn’t want to think about.

* * *

When Clarke had been thrown into solitary on the Arc, she’d spent hours upon hours dreaming of what she could do if she’d been able to bring one thing, just one item, with her. She liked to think about all the different things she could have done, the different forms of entertainment or feelings of warmth or comfort she would have had with different items—her blanket, a book, her mirror, her doll. She would imagine how her old room would look different minus certain things.

On Earth she’d found an entirely new set of items to covet. Her knife, her firestarter kit, her bow and the arrows she could use to feed and defend herself. These were all necessary items. She had no place for comfort things, or anything that wasn’t useful.

The small metal deer Finn made for her was the only exception.

It made packing easier. While she’d unpacked as much as she could, and acquired a few new items of clothing along with the Chancellor’s pin while back in Camp Jaha, Clarke had very little possessions to call her own.

Packing for her mother was harder. Clarke packed one bag full of clothing and secured the blankets in rolls, ready for a quick departure. She needed another bag for bowls, tools, medical supplies and a few trinkets her mother had laying around that Clarke knew she was fond of. The home still felt cluttered, and Clarke was sure she’d packed all the essentials. She could hear people arguing about how difficult it was going to be to pack everything they needed, and how hard to carry everything. It was almost baffling to consider people would need more than one or two bags, the clothes they already wore, and then their blankets. People on the Arc had always been possessive of their belongings, as they never owned much at all, and that trait didn’t appear to have diminished in any way for their time on the ground.

Clarke left all three bags by the door, ready for travel whenever the time came. It was quiet in her mothers’ home, and Clarke thought about staying inside. Part of her was always tired, ever since she’d felt earth under her feet, if she was being honest, and the thought of hiding from the masses and the work and _Lexa_ was so tempting that she thought she might actually stay in and hide. She took a deep breath, taking in the stillness and the smell of the place she’d come to accept as home. Clarke let it sit in her lungs, the thought that she might have been safe here, and then slowly she exhaled.

She left without another glance around. She wasn’t going to see this place again. There was work to do.

* * *

She lost hours to directing the food storage. The people from the Arc were wary of asking for help or advice from Lexa’s people. Po eventually stepped in, explaining that food was best transported in carts where it was counted to keep any untrustworthy people from snacking during travel. Clarke suspected he meant that her people were the untrustworthy thieves, but she didn’t call him out on it. After that she had to arrange for a wagon to carry their food, and had to fight with Indra that her people should have a cart for their own supplies and not mix their things with the Grounders’ items, even if that meant carts had to be packed tighter to make up for it.

Clarke wanted the two people to come together, but peoples’ belongings—especially things that belonged to the group at large, like their food—were things that people were very protective over. They would be catalysts for fights and she, Bellamy and Lexa were depending on the trek to the mountain going as smoothly as possible.

After that Clarke found herself helping people pack. Everyone was trying to pack everything they owned—including as much of the Arc as they could carry. She repeated over and over again about how many resources Mt Weather had, and all the things they would learn from the Grounders and that, no, weighing your bag down with the many rocks you’ve collected and now complaining that it’s unfair you have to carry your heavy bags when the sick get to put their bags on carts is completely rude and ridiculous.

Lincoln found her later, a lukewarm bowl of soup in hand.

“Your mother wanted me to make sure you ate something,” he explained.

Clarke accepted the soup graciously, as it saved her from arguing with a man who couldn’t comprehend that the walk to Mt Weather couldn’t be easily done in one day with all of their supplies and wagons. Everything in the Arc had been reachable within a few hours at the longest, and the thought that something could be further away was apparently hard to understand.

“How are the patients doing?” Clarke asked. She wondered if her mother had also just wanted Lincoln to get some fresh air, or get him away if something was happening with Octavia. Lincoln wouldn’t have left if Octavia was in any danger, Clarke decided, he loved her too much.

“They are recovering,” Lincoln said softly.

“Have you eaten yet?” Clarke asked out of habit. As soon as the words left her she wasn’t sure if she wanted to eat with him. He was the only other person who was aware that her entire marriage was a sham, and aside from that they weren’t entirely close.

“Bellamy is with Octavia, I thought I would give him a little privacy,” Lincoln replied, not answering her question.

Clarke nodded, a little disappointed that she had to eat with him now. They made their way to some stumps set up near the back of the platform where she and Bellamy made their announcements to their people. It was further away from the crowds, looking into the open grassland around them and gave a view of the river sprawling down from the mountains. Lincoln took what looked like a root out of a fold in his tunic and chewed on it. Clarke wasn’t familiar with the root itself, though she had seen a few of them in the Arc inventory.

“How is Octavia?” Clarke asked, trying for neutral ground.

“She still has not awoken, but her fever has ended,” Lincoln said, “she was very sick. Without your medicine, she would have been dead.”

When he said ‘your medicine’ Clarke was pretty sure he meant ‘you’ as in ‘people who weren’t his people’. She didn’t press the issue.

“It’s not good that she hasn’t woken up,” Clarke said, “it’s been a few hours since she got the medicine…”

Lincoln’s eyes were dark and he looked down at his feet rather than at her. Clarke saw his fists clench and unclench as he forced himself to relax.

“She will recover,” he said finally, “Octavia is strong, and your mother is a very good healer. She needs her rest.”

Clarke nodded, and continued eating her soup to avoid talking. She looked out at the river and the open grassland—expanded in her absence, as her people had been cutting down trees for shelter and sightlines—and the pallid gray sky looming impossibly close. The clouds felt heavy and the wind was cutting colder than Clarke had ever known. The Arc had always been a moderate, maintained temperature. With the varied temperature changes on Earth Clarke was never quite sure what to expect, and she even knew that there were places on Earth that had been much warmer and much cooler than where they lived now. When those had just been numbers to be taught and learned it seemed simple, but actually experiencing them was another thing entirely. It was cold enough that it was hard to just be outside without moving. Clarke couldn’t imagine it could get much colder.

She wanted to go inside, to pull a blanket tight around her and let her limbs thaw out, but that led her mind back to Lexa. Clarke let her eyes roam over towards where Lexa’s people had made camp just outside of the gates to Camp Jaha. This also drew her eyes towards Lincoln and he lifted his head as if he expected to be addressed.

The words were out of her mouth before she could think, “Do… what sort of things happen when we share a bed?”

Lincoln’s eyebrows lifted, and Clarke was thankful he was being this honest with his emotions to allow her to read him, “You are bedding with the Commander tonight?”

“Bellamy and I,” Clarke nodded, cheeks flushing, “Lexa said it’s normal to share a bed before being married.”

“Among my people—the clan— it is,” Lincoln said, catching himself too late.

Clarke looked away as she shuddered, “It… it goes against...”

She wasn’t sure where she was going, because there was a large knot of emotion in her throat that she wanted to spill. But she couldn’t. Lincoln wasn’t her confidante, and there were worse problems in the world than where she was going to sleep. Clarke was good at sleeping very little. She’d just have to make it an art.

“I understand _Skaikru_ have… certain customs regarding sex,” Lincoln treaded cautiously and Clarke took a breath and she braced for what he might say, “but amongst my—the clan—we believe that sex is a choice. It _is_ expected for a marriage to produce children, if possible, but you are free to choose when you have them. With the winter, the travelling and the responsibility of being Commander _and_ Chancellor you may want to wait to have children, but it is known that children strengthen allegiances between—”

“Enough!” Clarke held up her hand to cut him off, “I wasn’t… I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Yes, Commander,” Lincoln nodded.

“Chancellor,” Clarke reminded him out of habit.

She glanced at her left bicep. There was an implant under her skin—all Arc people got them—that kept her from ovulating and negated any chance of getting pregnant for another five years, if not longer. It was how they controlled the population expansion and still allowed people free reign of intimacy, since Old Earth things like condoms or birth control pills had gone extinct years before Clarke was born. Bellamy would have a chip as well, though Clarke didn’t know when he’d last had his changed. It was possible he had less years left than her.

Was it going to be an issue if they didn’t have children right away? Or at all? Clarke had agreed to go into this marriage without thinking about children. She might have to put her foot down. She could survive a false marriage, but she didn’t feel comfortable raising children in one. Let alone have _Bellamy’s_ children. How were three people even supposed to raise children? Were both her and Lexa supposed to have Bellamy’s kids? Would Clarke be considered the mother of Lexa’s children? Her thoughts made her somewhat nauseous, and the last of her soup wasn’t as appetizing as it should have been.

“I’m heading to the sick bay,” Clarke announced. This was another thing she was going to have to figure out, and probably shout with Bellamy and Lexa about.

Pillow talk, Clarke decided with dark humor.

She was thankful that Lincoln didn’t offer to walk back with her.

* * *

The sick bay—sick hut, Clarke reminded herself—was still full of activity. It was still crowded, as no one could be cleared as healthy enough to not spread the sickness just yet, but those of the patients that were recently admitted were helping care for the people who had been in longer and were much weaker. While that was a good thing, Clarke worried that her mother wouldn’t have much for her to do.

She spotted Bellamy hovering over Octavia, wiping her face with a wet cloth. He didn’t look up and Clarke was thankful to be sparred any interaction with him at all. She spotted her mother taking the temperature of an older woman and made her way over.

“I got most of your things packed, but you’ll want to double-check that I didn’t miss anything,” Clarke told her.

“Thanks honey,” her mom replied, scanning the room for what needed to be done next. Clarke waited a moment for her mom to assure herself that she could take the time to talk to her, “I’m sure you did great. Besides, as long as we’re together I don’t need anything else.”

Clarke smiled bashfully under her mother’s words.

“What can I do to help?” she asked, glancing around, “what’s the plan here?”

“The healthier people are asking to be discharged so they can start packing,” her mother explained, “plus they want to get away from the sicker people, and out of here because it’s so packed. But I don’t think it’s a good idea to release anyone early in case they’re still contagious.”

“But we have the medicine to treat them,” Clarke pointed out, “I think we should let them go, so you can focus on the people who need the attention.”

Her mother frowned, thinning her lips into a straight line. It meant she was thinking, and had probably been thinking the same thing but was trying to err on the side of caution.

“We don’t have the luxury of being safe right now,” Clarke reminded her, “we have to push hard to make it to Mt Weather. Everything will be okay then.”

“Do you think?” her mom asked, in a tone that meant she disagreed. Clarke didn’t want to have this argument with her right now.

“I’ll leave it to you to dismiss people,” Clarke said, “can I check on anyone or start helping with inventory?”

“Jackson is doing inventory, but yes. Check for fevers. Everyone should be cooling down now, and we need to make a list of everyone who’s developed pneumonia or any other complications. Maybe you should check on Bellamy, he’s been in here a while. He might need some fresh air,” her mom offered.

That was what a real fiancée would do.

“We don’t have time, Bellamy’s taking care of his own things,” Clarke reminded her mom, “we’ll have plenty of time to talk tonight, with Lexa.”

“You shouldn’t be up too late,” her mom said, “remember, like you said, there’s a lot to do. I know you want to be with your… Bellamy and Lexa, but I’d like to enjoy our last night here in our home together.”

Oh no, Clarke realized, her mom didn’t know.

“Actually…” Clarke started nervously, and her stomach twisted as her mom’s face fell, “I… I’m staying with Lexa tonight. Bellamy too. The three of us.”

“But you’re not married,” her mother reminded her, “Clarke you can’t live together before you’re married.”

Clarke wanted to agree with her. Her stomach was in knots at how strange this whole thing was.

“It’s a Grounder tradition,” she said quietly, ashamed of how easily the words came to her, “it will make Lexa happy if we do this.”

The furrow between her mothers eyebrows deepened and Clarke braced for a fight.

“You shouldn’t have to sacrifice your values for hers!” her mom said, nearly shouting, “haven’t you given enough? Why isn’t Lexa being accepting of you?”

“Mom! Please!” Clarke snapped.

Several people stopped talking around them and others blatantly stared. Clarke didn’t know if Bellamy was one of them.

“I don’t know how a marriage is supposed to work between three people, but it’s already too much. Why are you always changing for her?”

Clarke wished she could say the truth.

“Because I—because _we_ love her,” Clarke kept her voice low, hoping her mother would mimic her. The look on her mothers face was bordering on thunderous and Clarke understood they were about to fight. She didn’t want to do it here, in front of everyone.

“Outside,” Clarke muttered to her mother, and started walking before she heard an answer.

People were asking for Chancellor Blake when Clarke stepped out, since they were too afraid to enter the Sick Bay themselves. Clarke ignored them and stormed to the quieter area where she and Bellamy had eaten their breakfast that morning.

“I think you’re rushing into this,” her mom said as soon as Clarke turned to face her.

“Things _are_ moving fast, but that’s just a fact of life down here,” Clarke retorted.

Her mother shook her head, “No, I don’t care. You aren’t thinking things through Clarke! Marriage is _forever_! I thought you of all people understood that!”

“You think that I would get married to someone without wanting to be with them forever?” Clarke’s guts twisted into shapes and pains she couldn’t begin to name.

“I don’t understand how you could fall in love with someone who threw you— _all_ of us—aside so easily. She broke her promise to you once already, and left us to die. And now you’re going to marry her?”

“So this isn’t about me getting married,” Clarke surmised, “it’s about Lexa. You don’t trust her.” Clarke didn’t either, but she couldn’t let her mother know, “but you can trust me, mom. Trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“Clarke, baby,” her mother’s shoulders sagged and Clarke knew she was giving in, “of course I trust you. I want the best for you but I’m scared you’re moving too fast. You’re so young…”

“You and dad were young when you got married,” Clarke reminded her.

Her mom nodded, “We were, and that’s why I worry. I… there were a lot of times that I wanted to leave your father,” she admitted, and Clarke felt like she’d been slapped, “we fought a lot when we first got married, after the excitement had worn off. Being married didn’t magically make our lives easier. He was idealistic and I was stubborn and we didn’t agree on a lot of things, but we were tied together forever and it scared us a bit, I think. But yes, there were a lot of nights I’d lay awake and dream of not being married to him anymore.”

“But…” Clarke wasn’t sure what to say to that, “but… you were in _love_.”

“We were,” her mom agreed, “we were so in love. But just because you love someone doesn’t mean everything is going to be fine, and I’m scared that you’re going to make the same mistakes I did.”

“Marrying dad was a mistake?” Clarke asked. When had she started crying?

“Never,” her mother insisted, “I will never regret loving him.”

Clarke wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, “Are you telling me this to scare me off of getting married? Or to keep me from moving in with them?”

Her mother wiped her own eyes and they both laughed weakly at each others’ tears, “No, well, maybe a little. But I wanted to be honest with you. You’re becoming—you’ve been growing up so fast, and you’re a young woman now. I want you to know that I see you as an adult, that I can be honest with you. And that you can be honest with me, about everything.”

Clarke’s stomach dropped so low in her gut she thought she would be sick. Her mother knew. She had to know about the arrangement. The fake marriage. Why else would she bring this up now? If her mother knew then everyone else could see it. They were ruined before they even started.

“Clarke?” Miller called, peeking out from around the Sick Bay. He glanced between Clarke and her mother’s tear-stained faces and visibly panicked, “oh, um, I’m so sorry.”

“What is it?” Clarke asked. Her voice cracked and she rubbed at her eyes again to dry them out. How embarrassing.

“I, uh, I needed to talk to you,” Miller grimaced, glancing again at her mother.

Clarke welcomed the distraction, “Of course. What’s going on?” She sounded a lot surer of herself now, thankfully.

Miller glanced between her and her mother again as he approached, and he kept his hands folded in front of him like he was being chastised. He was being unusually meek and Clarke didn’t understand until it dawned on her what he was about to say.

“It’s fine I forgive—” she started.

“I slept with Bellamy a _lot_ and I’m really sorry. Harper told me you were okay, but I needed to let you know because I didn’t want to be hiding this and, again, really sorry,” Miller blurted out.

Clarke’s mothers’ eyebrows hit her hairline.

Clarke counted to three, “Thank you for telling me,” she said as courteously as she could, “I appreciate the honesty. Is that it?”

Miller nodded, and glanced at her mom again, “Yeah, uh, I’m sorry. This really obviously wasn’t the best time but I just needed to get that off my chest.”

Clarke took a deep breath, “It’s fine. Um, Miller, if you know anyone else who wants to confess to me? Could you tell them that they don’t have to?”

Miller nodded, “Sure, yeah. If I hear anything, I’ll tell them,” he glanced at her mom again, who was currently doing her best impression of a statue, “um, yeah, bye.”

They waited in silence as Miller made a hasty retreat.

Her mom turned to look at her with a strange look that was a mix of astonished and smug, “Has that been happening a lot?” she asked.

Clarke sighed and let her shoulders drop, “It’s been a weird day.”

They caught each other’s eye and Clarke couldn’t help it. She started to giggle, and struggled to hold it back, but then her mother was laughing and she was laughing with her.

“I mean it,” her mother said, a little more seriously once they’d stopped laughing, “I want you to be able to talk to me about anything. Even,” she gestured with a hand, “even about _that_ , okay, honey?”

That same cold dread started trickling back into Clarke’s veins. The fear of being found out, of having to lie to everyone she cared about. But she was reassured that her mom didn’t actually know. Clarke had just been jumping to conclusions. She hoped.

* * *

People were shouting—screaming, even—as Clarke and her mother rounded the corner of the Sick Bay. Without thinking Clarke leapt into a run. Were they under attack? Had Lexa ambushed them? Was it something worse?

A crowd of a few angry adults were crowding Po, and thankfully he was obeying orders to not draw his weapon. They were jabbing their fingers in his face and seemed to be accusing him of something. Clarke went to them first.

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

An older man, Clarke thought he might have been an engineer along with Wick and Raven, though she didn’t remember his name, pointed his finger in Po’s face, “I don’t want the savages near the sick! My daughter is in there! They’ll make everyone even more sick!”

“They’re hoarding the carts! We don’t have enough for us!” a short woman shouted. Clarke couldn’t remember her name.

“You don’t know how to pack!” Po snapped, “all of you are bringing useless items rather than necessities!”

“Enough!” Clarke shouted at Po. The last thing she needed was him to antagonize her people. Po barred his teeth in frustration as he ducked his head in submission. Clarke had seen enough people do that to her while she was working with Lexa and it didn’t concern her. Po would obey her, but she couldn’t say the same for her own people.

“The Grounders did _not_ bring the illness to us. Earth is full of all sorts of germs we haven’t encountered in years. Besides, the cold is the real enemy,” Clarke explained as quickly as she could before turning to the woman, “and Lexa provided us with more than enough carts. Where’s Kane? He’s in charge of organizing the packing.”

“I don’t want to talk to him, _or_ you,” the woman replied, “I want to talk to Chancellor Blake. He knows what’s best for us.”

“I’m Chancellor too,” Clarke reminded her. She even gestured to the pin she was wearing. Bellamy had all but refused to wear it himself.

“Chancellor Blake didn’t leave us,” the woman sneered, and the firm nods from the others with her confirmed that they agreed, “Chancellor Blake knows how to handle the savages. He’ll do better than you.” Sure, Clarke thought, Bellamy is just sitting inside while you’re all shouting and he isn’t doing anything. How’s that for a good Chancellor.

“This is your Chancellor! Show her some respect!” Clarke had forgotten her mother was there, and her outburst surprised her.

“We don’t need two Chancellors! Especially not one that abandons her own people and just expects to be handed power when she decides to come back!”

Clarke wished she had a proper response. She hadn’t abandoned anyone—she’d left to save her own soul. No one could understand what she’d sacrificed, and the choices she’d made to keep her people alive, and there was no way for her to try to explain it.

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Clarke said, “but I am your Chancellor. Bellamy is busy right now, let me see what I can do.”

Po and her mother followed closely on her heels as Clarke walked into the fray of shouting people. It took her a moment to locate Kane in the crowd because she couldn’t hear him over everyone else. Despite having known the man for most of her life—not that they’d ever been close, and she’d always thought of him as more of a robot—Clarke had never heard him raise his voice in anger. She’d always liked that about him, that he had that control of his own emotions.

“Listen, you need to pack lighter or you have to carry more!” Kane was saying. There was a group of people standing between him and the worst-packed cart Clarke had ever seen. It was as if everyone had just thrown what they owned into it and hoped it would stay. After a moment Clarke realized that must have been exactly what they’d done.

“Kane,” Clarke greeted, and immediately all attention was drawn to her.

“He won’t let us use the carts! He’s trying to make us take our things off!” a young girl shouted, pointing at Kane. She was one of the few children amongst the Arc people that wasn’t a delinquent.

“They _need_ to be taken off. It all has to be rearranged. Everyone in camp has to share the carts, and then carry any extras you need,” Clarke explained.

She was beginning to wish that she had gotten Bellamy from the Sick Bay. Part of her wanted to prove she was worthy of being Chancellor, but now that she had to fight with her people to do so, it might have been better to let Bellamy lay down the law. People were more likely to forgive him, rather than hate her more.

“We can’t carry everything! My daughter is too young, and I can’t carry much weight,” a woman insisted. She had a brace around her leg similar to Raven’s.

“We can work that out,” Clarke assured her, “no one is going to have to go without, but we have to travel lean,” one glance at the over packed cart confirmed that people were still packing far too much, and probably many useless items, “we only need what is absolutely necessary to survive.”

“We packed what we need to survive!” a man announced, “but it’s not enough! The Grounder Chancellor didn’t give us enough.”

“Commander,” Clarke reminded them, “and she gave us plenty. Kane,” he straightened as she addressed him, “can you put together a list of necessities?” Trusting people to make those choices themselves wasn’t working for them. The camp was an absolute mess so far. Any hope of leaving by tomorrow morning was long gone.

“Of course, Chancellor,” he said. His ears were pink—with cold or embarrassment at having lost control of his post, Clarke wasn’t sure. She was thankful that he addressed her with the proper title though. If at least one person was giving her some respect it might help persuade others to do the same.

“Po,” Clarke turned to her assigned guard, “can you help him? Maybe you would be better to direct packing, since you’re familiar with the carts?”

“ _Wanheda_ ,” Po stammered, “I cannot leave you unattended. I have orders!”

“I’m giving you new ones,” Clarke said, “besides, I won’t be far away. I’ll help out here, and then go back to the Sick Bay. I’m safe with my own people.”

Po glanced at the crowd around them, who had stopped accusing one another of taking up too much space on a wagon to watch what Clarke was saying. To his credit he didn’t point out how they all glared or studied Clarke like she wasn’t to be trusted.

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, “and if Lexa has any issue with it then she can take that up with me.”

The Sick Bay sounded incredibly tempting right now, even with the amount of work and stench of sickness inside. Clarke’s fingers were numb and she wanted to get out of the cold air.

Po sighed heavily, “Yes, _Wanheda_. I will do as you ask.”

“Mom,” Clarke ordered, “let’s get back to—to the Sick Bay, hut, sorry.”

Jasper was lurking on the edge of the crowd and he looked scared, and like he had to talk to her. Great, Clarke thought, another person who needed to tell her more about Bellamy’s personal life than she needed to know.

“I’ll meet you there,” her mother said, having noticed Jasper as well. She looked like she might laugh if she stayed any longer.

Jasper fell into step with Clarke as she slowly walked back to the Sick Bay.

“I need to ask you something,” he started hesitantly.

“Its okay,” she said before he could finish, “I forgive you, and no hard feelings. But can you tell me if there’s anyone in camp Bellamy _hasn’t_ slept with?”

Jasper stopped short, “What?”

“That’s what you’re here about,” Clarke asked. She stopped with him, “you’re here to apologize for sleeping with Bellamy, right?”

Jasper blinked in surprise, opened and closed his mouth a few times, and flickered his gaze between his feet and her face, “I, oh, uh, no! Not that I haven’t—I mean, who wouldn’t—I, uh, Miller said not to say anything about that, um, but,” he took a deep breath, “no, I—that’s not why I need to talk to you.”

“Oh,” Clarke replied gratefully, “so… what can I do for you?”

Jasper licked his lips and glanced out past their camp, as if steeling himself for what was going to come next, “We’re going to Mt Weather,” he said, though it wasn’t so much a question as a confirmation, “and I, I just wanted to know if, um, if we could—if _I_ could—bury them. Maya, and her dad. And all of them, but… I know it’s, the ground is dark and it’s so sad to just leave them there, and we had to bury the people at the drop ship because there wasn’t anything else we could do but I think that it would be kind to them to bury them, rather than burn them. It’s like, it would be giving them the earth, letting them be outside and on—in, I guess—in the ground where they wanted, but they gave up.”

He was starting to ramble, and Clarke felt her stomach twist up again. She was going to be sick. Jasper wasn’t looking at her, but she could see the bright tears in his eyes as he struggled to talk about the girl he’d loved. Who Clarke had murdered.

“Jasper, it’s okay. You don’t have to justify burying them,” Clarke insisted. She didn’t want to listen to him talk himself into an emotional breakdown. She couldn’t handle that, “I think it’s a great idea, but… but I don’t know what Lexa is doing with the bodies. Her people are… they’re getting it ready for us.”

“Well the bodies have to go somewhere,” Jasper insisted, “and after what they did for us!”

And _to_ us, Clarke wanted to say, but she held her tongue. It was easier to think that the entire mountain community had been their enemy, but Clarke would never forget the brave actions that had saved her friends.

“We’ll have a ceremony,” she promised, “we’ll honor _everyone_. I’ll talk to Lexa and see what can be done in the meantime.”

Jasper nodded meekly, head bowed. Clarke wanted to give him space to cry if he needed it, and also because she couldn’t stomach the thought of comforting his grieving the people she’d killed to save him. She turned to leave as quietly as she could.

“Clarke,” Jasper mumbled, his voice breaking.       

She froze on the spot, “Yeah?”

“How… how can you marry her? After everything she did to us?”

Clarke bit her lip and fall back on the easy answer, “Love works in mysterious ways.”

“She’s a monster,” Jasper insisted, “she’s evil and heartless and she didn’t care that we were all going to die. She’s a _bad_ person, Clarke I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.”

Clarke’s skin was crawling at the truth of it all, and the unfairness that while Lexa made her choices willingly, Clarke had not been given a choice in the matter.

“And I’m not?” Clarke snapped. She’d never had a choice. When it came down to her own soul versus the lives of the people she protected, she hadn’t hesitated to pull that lever. When it had been their lives, or the people in Ton DC, she had chosen them and let the rest burn. The road to hell was paved with good intentions and Clarke was living proof.

Jasper looked like he’d been slapped, and Clarke walked away from him before he could say anything else.

* * *

Clarke buried herself in work. She ended up turning around and going right back to helping Kane and Po deal with packing, and that kept her occupied for a few more hours. Making the list of necessities, of what would be allowed on the carts, proved to be difficult even amongst the three of them. Kane, shockingly, was too lenient and Clarke came across as too harsh. She was too used to living on her own, out of her own pack and by her own means. Everyone else had a life to bring with them, had belongings and mementos and pieces of their old life on the Arc that they weren’t willing to throw away just yet. By the time they had gotten it all sorted and dealt with people continuing to ask what could be allowed, and if there could be any exceptions made, it was dark out and the torches around camp were being lit to continue to provide light. Po followed Clarke inside the Sick Bay this time. Apparently even Grounders felt cold after spending too long outside.

Her mother took one look at Clarke’s red, numb hands and made her sit down with her hands in her armpits until she could tightly curl her fingers again.

Bellamy was still sitting with Octavia, and Lincoln had joined at some point. Lincoln was helping her mother where Clarke normally would have stepped in. There were less people inside, which meant her mother had been letting people go. Hopefully that choice wouldn’t come back to haunt them.

The next thing she knew, her mother was shaking her awake.

“Clarke, honey, it’s late. You’re exhausted.”

“M’fine,” Clarke groaned. She sat up from the empty cot she’d curled up on. Her neck hurt and her right arm was numb from being slept on, “sorry,” she said, “just, give me a minute. What can I do?”

“Go to bed,” her mother insisted, “everyone else is sleeping, and I don’t need your help right now. You need to be ready for tomorrow.”

Clarke’s mind was groggy and she rolled her shoulder to try and work blood back into it.

“Okay,” she agreed. Sleep seemed like the best thing to do right now.

Bellamy was still sitting with Octavia. Clarke wondered if he’d moved at all, or had he spent the entire day just sitting around doing nothing while she was working to make his orders go smoothly. The anger in her gut woke her up a bit, and rather than talk to him she stormed outside. Po jumped to his feet and followed her.

“Where to now, _Wanheda_?” he asked.

“Sleep,” Clarke replied, “I need to get some sleep before—what time is it?”

“Late,” Po said, “but there is a long time until dawn.”

“Okay,” Clarke wrapped her arms around herself. It was unbearably cold now, in the dark. Camp Jaha was relatively quiet. Guards patrolled the edge of camp, likely on high alert with Lexa’s camp just outside their walls. As Clarke looked at the rows of torches illuminating the tents of Lexa’s camp she remembered where she was supposed to sleep tonight.

“ _Wanheda_ ,” Po asked, “are you okay?”

Clarke jumped at his voice, “Uh, yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Sorry I just… I have to get my things and then I’ll go… join Lexa.”

“You must be very excited,” Po said, and sighed dreamily, “it must be so wonderful to be in love.”

Clarke stopped walking to look at him. She’d never heard a grounder talk like that before.

“Where are you from?” she asked.

“I was in Mt Weather,” Po explained again.

“No,” Clarke shook her head, “before that.”

“Ah,” Po nodded, “you wonder why I smile, compared to my cousins?”

“Cousins?” Clarke repeated.

“I was a wanderer,” Po said, “and I wandered into the wrong hands. _Heda_ offered to let me continue on my way, or to stay and serve her. I owe her a life debt, and so I am happy to stay.”

“You’re… from far away?” Clarke asked.

“A place much, much warmer than here. Beyond the dead zone,” Po said, “much more romantic than these northern tribes. But there is a deadly beauty to their way of life, I will admit.”

“You’re… an outsider, and Lexa is letting you guard me?” Clarke said slowly. Was Po an assassin? Or was Lexa insulting her by giving her an untrained guard? Maybe she was setting Clarke up to be killed.

Po laughed, and the sound boomed in the quiet night, “Oh, _Wanheda_ , do not mistake. I say the northerners are fierce, but there has never been a warrior greater than Polarishka-Tsarin-Mylemfae.”

“The junior,” Clarke said, and felt a smile tug at her lips. How far had Po travelled? He’d seen far more of the world than Clarke could ever dream of.

Po laughed again, a deep belly laugh. It lifted Clarke’s mood enough that for a moment she forgot the dread of having to spend the night in Lexa’s bed.

* * *

She walked slowly and tried to pretend she was just enjoying the night air, but it was so cold she couldn’t waste too much time. Her mothers house was quiet and dark, and Clarke was thankful she’d left her pack by the door otherwise she wouldn’t be able to find anything. The familiar shape of her and her mothers bed, the space where her mom had kept Clarke’s old clothes and spare boots she’d salvaged, or where they’d eaten meals together were all indistinguishable in the darkness. Clarke gulped down frigid air, not quite a sob, and closed the door behind her.

The walk to Lexa’s camp felt like a funeral march. It was just her and Po moving through the camp. A few late-night stragglers stopped to look at her before they hurried on their way to gossip about the Chancellor going to spend a night with her fiancé.

She had to wait, shivering in the dark, while the guards opened the gate.

“I don’t want it closed,” Clarke told them, when they protested her leaving, “we don’t have to keep them out anymore.”

They argued with her about safety, and making her people feel safe. Clarke was forced to pull rank on them, reminding them that she was their Chancellor, and that put her in an even fouler mood. She shouldn’t have to pull rank. Her people used to trust her, before she was Chancellor. And she hated arguing for things that she didn’t believe in. She didn’t necessarily want to keep the Grounders out—they weren’t at war, and she wanted the two people to get along—but Clarke wanted to build fortresses to keep Lexa away from her and her people. She wished she had a prison, a solitary cell, where she could keep the Commander locked away and never have to deal with her again.

The idea sustained her as she and Po made their way to Lexa’s camp. The torches ringing the edge of the camp felt like they were further away then they’d looked in the light. Darkness, and cold, closed in around her as she walked down the well-worn path that led from Camp Jaha’s entrance. The air was so cold it stung, and Clarke’s nose and fingertips were already numb. She’d never felt a night this cold in her life and wished belatedly that she’d put on her headcover and handwraps even for this short trip.

The camp had only been set up that morning, but already there were distinct paths being tromped into the ground between the tents. Lexa’s tent was not precisely in the middle of camp as Clarke expected. The middle was reserved for the carts and wagons of supplies, as well as the tethered horses that Lexa’s people had brought with them. It appeared the Grounders were just as wary of losing their belongings as her own people.

Lexa’s meeting tent was the one in the middle of camp, which came as a surprise to Clarke. She’d always assumed the Commander had slept in the same tent as her throne and the war table, but after a quick moment of thinking she realized that she’d never seen the Commander’s bed.

“Po,” Clarke asked softly, “where is Lexa’s tent?”

Her guard didn’t seem surprised that Clarke didn’t know where she was going, and without a word he led her away from the center of the camp. Lexa’s tent was practically nondescript, much smaller than the one Clarke had always met her in, except for the guards standing watch outside. They announced her to Lexa, and Po held open the tent for her to walk in.

There were candles lit inside, providing just enough light to make out the details of the interior. Lexa had a large bed piled in all sorts of thick furs. Clarke could imagine that they must feel incredibly soft and warm—so warm she could wake up sweating, and wouldn’t that be a delight? The floor was covered with a woven rug that had been worn down over the years, but it looked relatively clean. Lexa probably didn’t wear her boots inside then. The tent itself was just warmer than the outside, if only because it cut the wind. Clarke stopped shivering, but the chill remained. She didn’t want to remove her boots since she didn’t have socks—those had all worn out months ago. The Commander was sitting in a large chair in the corner, beside a small table that had a bowl of what Clarke’s nose told her was more mulled wine.  The bowl looked like it might be brass or copper, and had a candle set under it to heat the wine.

Lexa’s hair was tied back, though not as intricately as it had been this morning. Her face was clean, and her cheeks looked a little flushed. Clarke was sure her own nose was bright red, and her cheeks glowing from the cold. Lexa was dressed in a dark, thick fur robe. Clarke had no idea what creature it would have come from, but it draped over Lexa’s slight frame and made her look like she might actually be twice as large than she actually was.

“So good of you to join me,” Lexa said. The greeting was plain enough, but the disdain was clear in her voice.

“Thanks for the invite,” Clarke replied, using the same tone.

“Where’s Bellamy?” Lexa asked. She didn’t move from her chair. One of her legs was showing from under her robe, up to her thigh, and for a moment Clarke thought she might be naked underneath. Her heart started pounding in her chest—she was _not_ here for sex, no matter what Lexa thought about this marriage she would not be forced into that—but then she noticed the bunching of cloth above Lexa’s knee. Whatever clothing Lexa was wearing blended into her skin tone in the dim light.

“With his sister.”

Clarke dropped her bag down beside her. She started to move for the mulled wine, invitations be dammed, because she was freezing.

Lexa held up a hand to stop her, “Your boots. When is he coming?”

Clarke deliberately held Lexa’s gaze as she stepped forwards, boots on, and poured herself a cup of wine, “Eventually. I don’t keep tabs on him.”

Lexa’s face was stripped of any emotion, or at least she was trying to keep it that way. Her lip twitched with the urge to curl, and her eyes narrowed enough that Clarke knew she was mad at her. Good. She nearly finished her cup in one gulp, and poured herself another.

“Your people aren’t ready to leave for tomorrow,” Lexa had never changed topics gracefully.

“No,” Clarke agreed, “we’ll leave the day after tomorrow.”

Lexa slid out of her chair without her usual grace. In fact, she looked a little drunk, “Embarrassing,” she hissed as she stood, “how unseemly for leaders to have such disarray in their camp.”

“We’re moving as fast as we can,” Clarke growled, “and I don’t see you helping.”

They were almost nose-to-nose again. Lexa’s eyebrows rose in amusement and Clarke realized her mistake too late.

“Help? I have done all that you have asked and _more_ ,” she took a step forwards, driving Clarke back. Her breath was full of cinnamon and wine, “and this is how you choose to speak to me? I offer my people, my protection and even my bed and you choose to fight me?”

“Well lucky you,” Clarke braced herself and didn’t budge as Lexa stared her down, “because I’d rather sleep outside then share a bed with you.”

Lexa snorted, turning quickly, “I don’t think you would,” she said with all the petulance of a child, “you’d freeze to death.”

“You won’t get into Mt Weather if I die,” Clarke retorted. She felt like she was a child again, and she couldn’t stop. She wanted to wrap her fingers around Lexa’s throat or crack open her ribs to prove once and for all there was no heart in her body. It was the alcohol talking, but it was the most emotion she’d seen in Lexa in a long time.

“Then your people die,” Lexa sneered. She dropped her robe unceremoniously, and Clarke flinched because Lexa looked like she was naked. Like the bottoms that Clarke had noticed earlier, Lexa’s top was of the same material that in the candlelight blended to the same color as her skin. Clarke decided to finish another cup of wine before she sat down in the chair Lexa had just left. She tried not to focus on how warm it was.

Lexa was in her bed, tucked in with layers of warm furs to cover her, “The bed is much warmer than the chair.” She ran her hands over the furs, “are you serious about sleeping in that chair?”

Clarke tucked her knees up to her chest, bracing her boots on the chair to keep her position.

“I’m not coming near you,” Clarke said. She took another long drink of wine. She needed to be drunk for this. It was the only thing keeping her warm, and the only way she’d ever get any sleep would be if she could just pass out before she realized how uncomfortable she was.

“Clarke don’t be dramatic,” Lexa sighed, “you’re acting like a child.”

“You’re drunk,” Clarke snapped in lieu of any actual insult she wanted to say. She pulled her head covering from her bag and wrapped it tight, drawing it down close to her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at Lexa anymore. Lexa huffed in annoyance and Clarke heard her lay down, but she didn’t start a fight. Raised voices would be a bad idea with guards standing just outside the thin walls of the tent.

With nothing better to do, Clarke started drinking in earnest. She was going to suffer for this tomorrow, but already the cold felt less intrusive against her and her drowsiness from earlier was coming back strong. She’d have to make sure there was a big chair wherever she, Bellamy and Lexa ended up living in Mt Weather. So long as she had a big comfy chair, then she wouldn’t ever have to share a bed with either of them. Outside of the three of them, everyone would assume she slept in the bed and Bellamy and Lexa would have enough room to keep their distance from one another. It was a great solution. She could survive this marriage.

But maybe a secondary bed on the ground would be better. Clarke’s legs were cramping and she wasn’t sure how long she’d been curled in this position now. She felt hot and pulled her head wrap off to cool down. The wine bowl was empty and she felt sick and bloated. Served her right for making terrible choices. She couldn’t stay in the chair anymore, and slid down onto the floor. It was much cooler, and the rug felt nice against her hot skin. She could stretch out her legs and her sloshy stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut to keep the room from spinning.

Yeah, Clarke thought to herself, I can handle this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Sure Clarke, whatever helps you sleep at night.)
> 
> I’ve started introducing some original characters this chapter. I’m trying to keep them minimal, because it’s a lot of extra names to keep track of, so I’ll try to only give plot-important people names to make it easier on y’all. I really love Po, though. I wanted a slightly different grounder personality than what we’ve seen so far with the quiet, gloomy and angry, so Po is a hopeless romantic with a long name and a big laugh (and some big swords, but that’ll come later). We’ll meet Bellamy’s guard next chapter.
> 
> Also we see some weird Arc things- like people apologizing to Clarke for having sex with Bellamy. The Arc people just have very strange views of sex and love. Sex w/o love is fine, but in their eyes monogamy, love, and marriage are all the same thing so there's this cultural thing that's developed. Also, I miss the Bellamy on the show who loves sex and people so that's what I wanna write. As I've said before, I think, in these author notes, sex is how Bellamy connects with people. And it's especially important in the Arc society in this story where Bellamy doesn't believe he can love anyone because he loves his sister, so the whole 'Bellamy _really_ gets around' is 2 parts joke, 1 part sad, learned behaviour.
> 
> Coming up next week, one of my favorite tropes: ‘there’s only one bed and three of us, guess we’ll have to get cozy’
> 
> See you next Saturday!


	9. Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Update Day everyone!
> 
> Re: the new episode, Raven absolutely _slayed_! (Or, rather, her actress I suppose) but wow! Wow! WOW! What a great episode for her! Thank you episode for confirming everything I know about Bellamy: he loves to be second-in-command and he is emotionally driven to the point of being a bullheaded idiot. And then there's Monty. Why won't anyone hug him? Someone hug Monty PLEASE! Hashtag no more dead moms.
> 
> Back to this story—I got a sense that people were confused/upset about Bellamy being into dudes and girls? Which made me realize that y’all don’t live in my head and as such you don’t know the rules I’m playing by, woops! (My rule is always bi until proven otherwise)
> 
> So, since the Arc is a survivalist society that has been living in a flying tin can for generations (for this story I’m hand waving the actual time, but it’s been longer than 100 years), the creators of the show have also said that the society no longer has issues of things like racism, sexism or love. Because there’s a lot of other things to worry about than stupid things like that.
> 
> I took this to mean that the Arc is also past any sort of sexuality issue. Sexuality isn’t an issue at all, so they no longer have any term for it, but you can consider everyone from the Arc to be bi/pansexual (google those terms if you don’t know them! Lots of great info out there!) If you want more solid proof, the creator of the show has also tweeted somewhere, and you can find it if you dig a little, that the Arc Society doesn’t care about the gender of who you love, ie everyone from the Arc has the potential/is open to dating someone of any gender. Which is really cool!
> 
> The show has been disappointingly hetero-centric still, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
> 
> But as for this story, I wanted to make a point that the Arc has no issues with sexuality! Or gender roles/conformity/etc. Which is gonna come up a bit as well! So don’t expect strictly heterosexual relationships for characters who haven’t yet been ‘revealed’ as non-hetero in the show (so… everyone but Clarke, Monroe and Miller).
> 
> Big thank-you’s to everyone who left a review! Y’all rock my socks.

 

“Bellamy, Bellamy wake up.”

A gentle hand was shaking his shoulder, and for a moment he thought it was his mother.

“Five mor—” he cut himself off, realizing that there was no way it could be her.

He blinked his eyes open, looking around. He was in the sick hut, and it was dark. Very dark. The main fire used to heat the place was just hot coals, a fresh log had just been added but it hadn’t quite caught yet, and the candles around were worn down. Abby was smiling at him, though she looked pale with exhaustion.

“I’m awake,” he mumbled, “what’s wrong?” His heart lurched in his chest, “is it Octavia?” He snapped his gaze down to his sister’s sleeping face. He’d fallen asleep holding her hand. If anything had happened he should have noticed?

Octavia was sickly pale still, though she no longer looked—Bellamy resisted the urge to think _corpse_ —lifeless. She’d been grey earlier, and it was difficult to tell in the low light but she might be getting some color back in her cheeks.

“She’s fine,” Abby assured him, “in fact, I think it’s safe to say she’s on the mend.”

Relief flooded over Bellamy and he sagged back in his chair. His back and neck, in fact every inch of his body protested the movement, but in that moment he could have cried. Octavia was going to be okay. She was going to live. He wasn’t going to be alone.

“That’s good,” Bellamy managed to get out. He blinked a few times, and wiped his eyes to compose himself, “okay, what do you want?”

Abby gave him a stern look that she probably used to scold Clarke, “You need to go to bed. I sent Clarke off a while ago. I let you stay a little later, because of your sister, but if this is your first night living together, then you shouldn’t keep your… fiancés waiting.”

Bellamy’s stomach dropped. The last thing he wanted was to show up in time to share a bed with his betrothed.

“Okay,” he said grimly, “but if anything happens to my sister—”

“I’ll let you know,” Abby agreed, “but I am going to get a bit of rest myself, so Jackson will be on watch.”

“Can I trust you to get me? Or are you going to try and be merciful again?” Bellamy pressed. He hadn’t forgotten that just earlier today Abby had tried to distract him in case his sister really was dying.

Abby, to her credit, looked humble about it, “I’m sorry. I made a quick judgement. I thought she might be holding on for you, and that it was better at the time to let her go then to let her keep struggling for nothing. And for you… I know what it’s like to watch people you love die.”

“I’m from the Arc,” Bellamy reminded her, “that was a common occurrence.” He was a child of the Arc, and a survivor of the ground. He’d seen enough death; one more wasn’t going to ruin him. Except that he knew Octavia’s death _would_ destroy him.

“If there’s anything, you’ll know,” Abby assured him, “now go, you look exhausted and there’s a long day tomorrow.” She left him to finish checking on people, or whatever it was that doctors could do in the dark when they could barely see anything.

Bellamy brushed Octavia’s greasy hair out of her face. He wanted to wash it, so she didn’t wake up completely filthy, but it was almost impossible until she woke up. Besides, he really didn’t have the time. He’d spent all of today by his sisters side just in case, but now that she was getting better he needed to be out getting the camp ready to leave. Hopefully Clarke had done something useful in between coming to help her mother out.

“Sleep well, O,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. She was losing a lot of weight now, and her wrist was as thin as when she’d been a little girl. It made Bellamy’s chest ache with worry. She needed to wake up soon so she could eat something.

He made sure she was tucked in against the chill. The blankets reeked of sweat and bile, but there wasn’t time to wash them or even spare blankets to use. Octavia was going to be so upset when she woke up, Bellamy smiled at that. She would demand a shower immediately, and possibly burn her clothes. He’d get to tease her for being more disgusting than that time he’d sunk up to his knees in filth when they’d had the great idea of expanding the latrines instead of just digging new ones.

She’d be upset for a whole variety of other reasons. Bellamy’s mood fell as soon as he stepped outside. It was freezing, and he bit back a curse of surprise.

There was a grounder woman waiting there. She was thin, with sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes. She had shaggy dark hair, and reminded him a lot of Anya.

“What are you doing?” he demanded. Why was a grounder lurking around their sick?

She pushed herself off of the sick hut and stood defiantly in front of him. She was at least a head taller than him, possibly even taller than Lincoln, “You’re _Wangona_?”

That was something that Lexa had said at the engagement ceremony. Apparently it was a name? Or a title?

“Maybe,” Bellamy said. She looked frustrated and huffed out a stream of hot breath into the cold air.

“I’m to guard _Wangona_ ,” she said.

“Says who?” Bellamy asked.

“ _Heda_ ,” she said.

“I don’t need a guard,” Bellamy said.

She narrowed her eyes at him and didn’t speak, but the disapproval translated clearly.

“My sister is sick,” Bellamy said, absolving himself of any guilt she might be trying to put onto him for spending the day inside.

There wasn’t anything he needed from home since he’d slip out early to change into a fresh shirt in the morning, so he headed directly for the grounder camp. His new guard followed close behind. Bellamy could sense that she was scowling the whole way.

The gates for Camp Jaha were open, and the shift guards said that Chancellor Griffin had ordered the earlier shift to keep them open. Another brilliant move from Clarke Griffin: just leave their only defenses wide open when the enemy was literally at the gates.

His frustration kept him warm, well, it helped him try to ignore the cold at least. He kept his hands shoved into his armpits and his chin tucked to his chest and struggled not to shiver too much. Huxley, one of the guards on shift, offered to come with him. His finger hovered too close to his trigger the whole time, just in the presence of one grounder. Bellamy told him not to bother. He couldn’t risk someone getting spooked and shooting a grounder on their doorstep. They weren’t looking to start another war.

“Guns,” his guard muttered distastefully as they left the camp.

“They’re better than swords,” Bellamy snapped.

“You didn’t need them in the mountain,” she said, “you killed with your hands. Like a true warrior.”

She sounded a little in awe and it caught Bellamy off guard.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I was in the mountain, when you escaped. I witnessed your kill,” her eyes glittered in the dark, and she actually smiled, though it was as sharp as a knife. Bellamy swallowed the guilt of Lovejoy’s murder. It hadn’t been so much of a kill as it was dumb luck and Echo stepping in to help. He’d been so drained of blood at the time that he’d barely had enough strength to keep his hands on Lovejoy’s throat. Apparently rumors of that kill had been greatly exaggerated.

“My name is Tara,” she offered.

“Right,” Bellamy nodded, “well, get used to having guns around.”

* * *

Halfway between the camps they were met by two grounders carrying torches. They had hands on their swords. The late hour didn’t seem to be affecting them, though Bellamy was pretty sure they looked grumpier than the average grounder. Then again it was hard to tell what they were feeling because the only parts of their faces showing were their eyes.

“I’m going to see Lexa,” Bellamy explained. He couldn’t even tell if they were male or female. All grounders seemed to be tall, dark and muscled.

The two of them talked quickly in their language. Bellamy should have been paying more attention when Lincoln was teaching him and Octavia, but she had a much better ear for the language and a head start on him, so he usually got frustrated and quit during their lessons. Nevertheless he knew they were talking about him, and possibly that it was disgraceful for him to be coming in at such an hour. Bellamy had never thought grounders were also gossipers.

“I spent all day with my sister,” Bellamy elaborated, “she’s been really sick, but the medicine means she’s going to survive. Now I’m tired and cold and I don’t want to wander through your camp, so if you don’t mind I want to get going,” he turned to Tara, “can you show me where Lexa is?”

Tara shrugged, “I’m a guard, not a guide.”

Bellamy sighed and turned back to the guards gossiping about him, “Look, take me to Lexa. Now. That’s an order.”

That at least spurred them into action. Bellamy headed into the depths of the grounder camp with his two guides and his useless guard trailing behind. He couldn’t retrace the exact route they took, but by the time they approached Lexa’s tent he didn’t need them anymore. The two grounders standing guard outside made it a dead giveaway.

It wasn’t the tent he’d gone to negotiate with her in, which kind of made sense. He wouldn’t want to sleep where he took audience either. But Lexa’s personal tent was a lot smaller, which just increased Bellamy’s unhappiness with the entire situation. At least when he’d pictured the big tent he’d been able to put a lot of distance between him and the girls just by sleeping on the floor. On a night like tonight he might just freeze to death doing that, but death would be preferable to having to sleep beside Lexa.

Bellamy had to show his choker to the guards at the door before he was allowed in, since Tara wouldn’t vouch for him. Part of him wished he’d thought to bring an actual weapon with him, since they checked him anyways. They were probably laughing at the idea of the naive Space Boy who wandered around earth without a way to defend himself. Bellamy wasn’t too good with swords or knives, he preferred guns. Unfortunately guns were under strict regulations and only for the guard or for scouting parties.

The candles inside had almost burned down to the wick, and as such weren’t giving off a lot of light. There was just enough to see Clarke was passed out on the floor, curled in a ball and shivering so hard she looked like she might be in pain.

“What the?” Bellamy moved to kneel beside her before he could stop to think. He got one hand on her shoulder to roll her onto her back. She was pale, and her lips looked colorless in the candlelight. They might even be blue.

“Clarke! Clarke, wake up,” Bellamy shook her.

“Shh,” Clarke stuttered. She blinked awake, though it was immediately obvious she was not sober in the slightest. Clarke pointed a shaking hand behind Bellamy, “can’t let them hear.”

“Clarke you’re freezing,” Bellamy whispered, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Sleeping,” Clarke muttered, and her voice trailed off. Her head lolled back and she was asleep again. At least, Bellamy hoped she was just sleeping.

Not for much longer at least. He had no idea how long she’d been laying here.

“This is just great,” Bellamy said to himself. He stood up to pull back the furs on the bed. Clarke needed to warm up quickly or this was going to get serious really fast. The cold air startled Lexa—who was just _sleeping_ while Clarke froze to death—awake. Good, Bellamy figured, she deserved it.

She nearly leapt out of the furs in alarm, but stopped when she realized what had woken her up.

“What are you doing?” she asked, and rubbed at her eyes. Bellamy looked away quickly, was she naked? Did she honestly think they’d all just share a bed with her in the buff? No wonder Clarke had tried sleeping on the floor.

“What are _you_ doing?” Bellamy snapped, “help me get her up.”

For all that Clarke was shorter than him, she was not easy to pick up. Especially when she was doing her best impression of useless baggage.

Lexa peered over the edge of the bed at Clarke, “Why is she there?” and realization dawned in her face, “she’s so stupid! I told her she’d freeze! Get her in the bed!”

Bellamy wanted to point out that he’d just told Lexa to help him do just that, but Lexa had the same dozy look on her face that meant she was drunk too. Great, he’d been forced to marry a bunch of lushes.

On his own Bellamy was able to push Clarke up onto the bed, and then Lexa decided she could help pull and roll Clarke into the middle.

“Take off your clothes,” Lexa ordered. She was pulling Clarke up to strip her of her jacket. Bellamy realized with some relief that Lexa _was_ wearing clothes, but it was tan enough to match her skin tone exactly in the candlelight.

“What?” Bellamy replied a lot louder than he intended to. It occurred to him then that the whole time they had been talking near-silently. The last thing they needed was for anyone to check in on them and find out that one of the fiancés had almost frozen to death because she’d rather die then share a bed.

“She needs heat, and the less layers between us the better,” Lexa instructed. Bellamy wasn’t a doctor, and he really didn’t understand people freezing in the cold. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him, since bodies naturally produced heat anyways, right? The closest he’d ever seen was the people who’d been floated, but they died of multiple things at once, not just a loss of heat.

Lexa noticed him stalling, “Hurry!”

Bellamy followed Lexa’s lead and left an undershirt on, and he decided he wasn’t comfortable taking his pants off. Thankfully both he and Lexa silently agreed that, while they were taking off most of Clarke’s layers, they weren’t going all the way, though he wasn’t able to stop Lexa  before she pulled off Clarke’s last shirt and left her in just her bra. This was all for good intentions, he reminded himself, no matter how gross he felt. He was going to have to stay awake though, he realized, because if Clarke wasn’t getting any better then they might have to move to skin-to-skin contact. That, or take Clarke to the Arc. Bellamy really wanted to avoid having to explain to Abby why her daughter was hypothermic.

And while he rarely turned down the opportunity for skin-to-skin contact, in other scenarios, Clarke was someone he’d never really thought about having sex with. Sure she was pretty enough, but there was a wicked mind behind her blue eyes and she’d made it very clear from the start that she was going to keep him at an arm’s length. Bellamy knew what she was capable of, and what she’d done, and knowing all that made him realize he just wasn’t attracted to her.

Or Lexa, for that matter, but that was a lot less complicated. Lexa was a monster, and while her face was nice enough to look at, all the evil behind what she’d done to them made her the ugliest creature Bellamy had ever laid eyes on.

“What the hell did you do?” Bellamy hissed at Lexa over Clarke’s head. He could feel her hand against his ribs where she was wrapped around Clarke, trying to share as much body heat as possible. He was mirroring the same position. Clarke was the most uncomfortably cold creature Bellamy had ever been forced to spoon in his entire life. Thankfully she was facing Lexa, so the grounder got to deal with Clarke’s awful wine breath. Bellamy had to deal with all of her hair though. There was so much of it.

“I did nothing,” she replied, “I told her to come to bed but she insisted on sleeping in the chair.”

“So you just left her?”

Lexa looked away, and for a moment Bellamy wondered if she might actually look hurt, “She made it clear what she wanted. Clarke hates me, and I don’t want to give her any more reason to.”

“Yeah it’s hard to see how she could hate you more,” Bellamy snapped. He focused on rubbing Clarke’s stomach and tried to convince himself it wasn’t as creepy as it felt.

Lexa didn’t have anything else to say. She ducked under the furs and Bellamy watched the lump of her move down to rub at Clarke’s legs and feet. At one point Lexa accidentally grabbed Bellamy’s ankle and he nearly kicked her on reflex. They made a terrible team, and Bellamy felt strangely pleased about that.

Thankfully Clarke stopped shivering soon enough. She was chilled right through, but she was starting to warm up. Especially with all of the furs piled on top of them, and Lexa and Bellamy pressed against her. Bellamy had been told by many people that he was like a human furnace, and once again he was grateful of this small superpower.

Lexa nodded off after they were no longer scared that Clarke was in danger of dying. Bellamy shifted a bit on his hip to get comfortable and her eyes shot open again. The last of the candles were dying, so he could only make out the gleam of her eyes in the darkness. There wasn’t a lot of places to look—either up and away, and strain his neck, or he could look down and end up with a face full of Clarke’s hair. He chose to stare Lexa down instead, and they stayed like that until the last candle went out. After that it was pitch black in the tent. Lexa’s grip on Clarke didn’t change, so he couldn’t be sure if she fell asleep, but the atmosphere in the tent seemed to calm marginally. Hopefully the monster was resting.

Clarke slept on, blissfully unaware of the tension on either side of her. At least he had Clarke as a buffer. It made being in Lexa’s bed only marginally more bearable.

“Thanks a lot,” he muttered in Clarke’s ear, “I was really hoping this would be a calm night.”

* * *

At some point Bellamy actually did fall asleep. He hadn’t slept more than a few hours all week, and now with a soft, warm bed he dropped into what could arguably be called a coma. Someone was moving beside him, which only marginally disturbed him but he was going to keep sleeping because he was just so warm, and then there was an elbow in his ribs and he was getting trampled and thrown out of the bed.

Bellamy hit the ground, shouting, as Clarke fell on top of him.

“What are you doing?” he shouted. His head was pounding, leftover from his concussion a week ago, and the morning air was a cold shock to his system that immediately put him in a bad mood. Clarke looked like she was panicking. She was breathing fast and couldn’t get her feet under her. Just before Bellamy could sit up to ask if she was alright she grabbed a brass bowl off of the table and vomited into it.

“Gross,” he muttered. That explained the rude wake up. The tent flapped open with a blast of colder air as the two guards outside rushed in.

“Leave,” Lexa ordered immediately, “we’re fine.”

Bellamy didn’t pay them any more attention. He started picking up his clothes from where he’d dropped them on the floor last night. They were cold and he should have brought them into the bed with him to keep them warm, but the layers were already starting to help against the chill.

By the time Clarke pulled her head out of the bowl her eyes were glossy with tears and she looked pale.

“Wh—what happened?” she started shaking and glanced nervously between him and Lexa, “last night? Where are my clothes? Why was I in the—in there? What did you do?”

“Here,” Bellamy tossed one of Clarke’s sweaters at her, “put this on before you freeze again.”

Clarke flinched when the sweater hit her, but just starred at it.

“Are you still drunk?” Bellamy demanded.

“Why did you take my clothes off?” Clarke’s voice was weak and she was still looking around with a dazed expression. She looked like she might cry.

“We had to warm you up,” Lexa explained. She slid out of the bed seemingly unfazed by the cold, “you might have frozen to death otherwise. Or gotten very sick.”

“And your mom was on duty. I really didn’t want to take you in,” Bellamy said.

Clarke nodded mutely. She started reached for her sweater, but instead got sick in the bowl again.

“So thanks for making it a very memorable night,” Bellamy said.

Lexa spoke up before Clarke could reply, “What needs to be done for your people to travel? If we do not leave before noon we will have to wait for tomorrow.”

Bellamy found one of his boots under the bed, “I think we’re ready. Just have to give the word.”

“No,” Clarke croaked, shaking her head, “we’re not. We had to get everyone to repack yesterday, and the carts have to be reloaded. We need another day.”

Lexa barred her teeth and growled as she finished getting dressed, “Ineffective! Your people are useless with their own survival.”

She was ranting to herself, but Bellamy couldn’t stand to let her cut down his people in any way.

“They don’t know better,” he snapped, “we never had to migrate anywhere on the Arc. We’ll be ready for tomorrow.”

“See to it,” Lexa replied, dismissively as if she was talking to an errand boy or a janitor, “we can’t afford to waste another day.”

“Fine,” Bellamy muttered. Clarke was still sitting on the ground clutching the bowl, still sitting in her underwear.

“Are you coming?” Bellamy asked. He purposely avoided looking at her, to give her a little bit of privacy at least.

She spooked back to attention, “Yeah, yeah, um, I have to get dressed. I’m coming.”

“Would you like to eat first?” Lexa asked, “you need to keep your strength.”

Bellamy didn’t want to touch anything from Lexa, even if she probably had more food than they did. Thankfully Clarke answered for him.

“No,” she groaned sickly, pulling her sweater on, “I can’t eat.”

“Leave the bowl on the table,” Lexa said, finishing dressing by strapping her armor on. She had a thick black cloak lined with gray fur to go on top of everything that made her look like she was twice as big as she actually was. It looked incredibly warm and for a moment Bellamy was a little jealous, “I will see you both tonight, if not earlier.”

The daylight was blinding as Lexa swept out of the tent. Bellamy blinked to clear the sunspots out of his eyes.

“About, um, last night,” Clarke started slowly. She’d gotten her pants on so Bellamy didn’t feel bad looking at her now.

“What were you thinking?” Bellamy demanded. Now that Lexa wasn’t around to see them at each others’ throats he could be as angry with her as he wanted, “you could have _died_! Do you understand how stupid you were being?”

Clarke snapped her mouth shut with an audible click of her teeth. She glowered at him, which was impressive considering how pathetically hungover she looked, “I was going to say thank you,” she finally said.

“Don’t,” Bellamy replied, “I have to keep you alive for this alliance to work. It was nothing personal.” He was being absolutely petty, but the depths of her stupidity were honestly shocking. Anyone else and he would have stopped talking to them altogether. He expected so much more from Clarke.

Bellamy couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her anymore, and stormed outside to take in some cool air. His layers did little against the shock of the cold, but he stopped short when he looked around in awe.

There was white stuff—snow, he remembered from his Earth Skills classes—there was snow everywhere. It coated everything in a thin layer. It crunched weirdly under his boots. Almost like mud, but where he expected it to dissipate because it was so light and fluffy, he could feel it being compressed into forms under his feet. The whole earth looked transformed into a whole new world. The camp was mostly undisturbed, with only a few tracks where people had been wandering in the early hours. It had to be really early then, if Lexa’s camp wasn’t active. The sky was light gray and hung even closer than before, and Bellamy thought distinctly that the clouds looked like they were coming in to smother them all.

All of the colors of the fabrics and furs making up the tents, the clothes on the people and even their skin and the mud or kohl on their skin seemed vibrant against the dull white background. Bellamy had to squint to look around, even with the lack of sun in the sky.

Clarke stumbled out a moment behind him, “Wait for—” she trailed off mid-sentence as she took in the snowy scenery.

They’d seen snowfall from the Arc—at least they’d seen whole swaths of continents turn white at certain points in the year. Bellamy had seen a few photos of snow, and knew enough about it: it was frozen water— but it felt entirely different to see it in person. Like everything on earth, it was startlingly beautiful but that probably meant it was deadly. Bellamy tried to recall how cold it had to be to form snow in the region they were in, and reasoned that it had to be _really_ cold. Last night had been the coldest night of his life, so he could believe that. If he remembered Earth Skills classes correctly, it was only going to get colder. If that was even possible.

 The cold was settling into his skin again, and Bellamy shoved his hands into his armpits to keep them from shaking. Already the sensation of being warm felt like a distant memory. Bellamy couldn’t remember how long winter lasted in this region—it was different for different places on earth, apparently. All he could remember was that there were places on earth that winter never ended and the sun didn’t rise for months. It felt like that was going to happen to them.

Octavia had been excited for the snowfall. Lincoln had told them stories about all the things children could do with snow—like build men or throw it at one another, and how you could slide down a slippery hill. He’d promised to show her a waterfall that froze completely and you could climb up it.

Bellamy took off towards the sick hut. Octavia had to be awake by now. The snow crunched behind him as Clarke followed close behind him, and two grounders—Tara and a burly man Bellamy thought he might recognize from the cages in Mt Weather—followed them. The man must be Clarke’s guard.

Clarke was hovering too close to be casual, which meant she probably wanted something. He stopped on the edge of Lexa’s camp, keeping one tent between them and the sightlines of the Camp Jaha gate guards.

“What do you want?”

Clarke raised her chin up, scowling, as if she was going to intimidate him, “I told you not to touch me,” she said.

Bellamy recalled their agreement yesterday before Lexa had arrived, “Are you serious? Clarke you were going to freeze! Would you have rather I left you to die?”

“How do you think I feel waking up half-naked with you and, and _her_ on top of me?” Clarke snapped.

“We already told you: nothing happened, get over it,” Bellamy growled. Clarke seemed to have a knack for blowing things out of proportion—starting with the bracelets the original 100 kids had been sent down with. It had been life or death about those, and now it was life or death over something that didn’t need worrying about.

“’We’?” Clarke echoed, “oh, there’s a ‘we’ now? I should have known you and Lexa would get along if you were taking advantage of me!”

“Back off,” Bellamy stepped right into her space, forcing Clarke to flinch back. This was classic intimidation training from his time as a cadet, and as simple as it was, civilians bought into it all the time, “I didn’t do _anything_ except save your life. Don’t you dare try to turn this on me. You were the one who got totally cometted and passed out on the floor, not me. And if it’s going to be this much of an issue, next time I’ll just leave you where I find you, Princess.”

He sneered the old insult as he brushed past her, knocking her with his shoulder—another simple technique— and headed for home. It was a low blow, and he hadn’t used that insult on Clarke for months now, but she was really getting on his nerves. She had to make everything about her! How did she think he felt having to spend his night making sure she stayed alive? He could hear Tara following behind him and realized he’d have to make sure she didn’t talk to anyone about that fight. Great, now with people watching them constantly it was going to be even harder to keep up this marriage charade.

The snow was white as far as the eye could see on the open expanse where they’d cut the forest back. The river looked dark, gray and sluggish as it wound it’s way down behind Camp Jaha. It hurt to look at too long, and Bellamy tucked his chin to his chest as he walked back to camp. It was too cold to be outside for long without his hand-wraps or a hat. Even his nose felt frozen.

It was hard to gauge what time it actually was, with the sun hidden behind the clouds and the world lit in the dim, gray winter lighting. The guards on shift at the gate were helpful in that regard. Bellamy was early enough that breakfast was still being made. He debated going to get a few more hours of sleep before the camp actually woke up, but that would be a few more hours wasted.

He charmed one of the women working the mess hall shift into giving him half a protein bar. Everyone was on light rations right now, and so half a bar was at least two days’ worth. But Octavia was going to need all of the food she could get in order to regain her strength.

Tara frowned loudly as Bellamy headed for the sick hut. He wasn’t sure how it was possible, but her disapproval was impossible to ignore. She stopped outside the door and took up her post, casually leaning against the wall and waited for him to come back out.

The sick hut was abnormally quiet. Even then, it was still full of sounds. People were snoring, coughing or wheezing as they breathed. The bedding creaked and rustled as patients turned in their beds. The fires that heated the hut were burning low, and before he did anything Bellamy grabbed some more wood to feed the flames before the chill could settle into the hut. Abby had fallen asleep draped over a bed with a sick child in it. She had probably been working late into the night, despite her saying that she was going to have Jackson take over for her. Bellamy felt a flash of guilt that he’d gone to sleep in a warm bed while she stayed up all night working. He would have much rather been here to help than deal with Clarke and Lexa. Bellamy made his way over to his sister, careful not to make too much sound to wake anyone up.

Octavia was still asleep. She was pale, and boneless like she might never get up out of bed again. Her nose felt cold from exposure, but her forehead was cool to the touch. Bellamy let out a long sigh of relief. She was getting better. The fever had broken.

Abby groaned as she sat up. She rubbed a hand down her face miserably, slapping lightly at her cheeks to wake up.

“How long was I out?” she asked him, and glanced around, “you’re early.”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bellamy whispered.

“How is she?” Abby stood up slowly, stretching out her sore arms and back.

“Better? I think?” Bellamy replied, “her fever is gone. Will she wake up?”

Abby made her way over and felt Octavia’s forehead, and her throat. She pulled back the blankets—they smelled awful, a weeks worth of fever sweat, bile, and other things Bellamy didn’t want to think about—to feel under Octavia’s arm, and then listened to her breathing.

“She’s got pneumonia,” Abby said, “but that’s mostly a side-effect of the illness. Her swelling has gone down, I think. It’s still there, but not as inflamed as it was before. This is all good. She won’t be able to do solid foods for a while, though, once she wakes up. And it’ll still take some time before she’ll be back to her old self.”

Bellamy let out a shaky breath. He felt like he might collapse in relief, “But she’s going to be okay?”

Abby smiled at him, “There’s a long way to go, but I think the worst is over.”

* * *

Lincoln was inspecting the packed wagons when Bellamy found him. There were more things gathered around the wagons, now under a layer of snow, than there were loaded up. There was a post, he noticed, stomped into the ground with a list of items allowed on the wagons. What the hell had Clarke been doing yesterday? The camp was an absolute mess.

“Octavia’s better,” Bellamy said in lieu of a greeting, “Abby says the worst is over.”

“Has she woken up?” Lincoln asked quickly.

Bellamy shook his head, “Abby says she’s really tired. And she’ll be bedridden for a while yet.”

“She’ll hate that,” Lincoln remarked. Bellamy couldn’t help but smile.

He and Lincoln didn’t always see eye-to-eye with one another, and they’d never really spoken about the fact that Bellamy had tortured him when they’d first met, or how Lincoln had abandoned him in Mt Weather. They understood one another, and Bellamy could respect the skills and knowledge that Lincoln provided. But Lincoln’s single best trait, in Bellamy’s opinion, was that he loved Octavia almost as much as Bellamy did. He’d proven time and time again that he would protect her and keep her safe, and he never once looked at her and saw ‘the girl who lived under the floor’ or a _sibling_ in the way that people from the Arc hissed that word.

“Where do you think we’re at for packing up?” Bellamy changed topics.

Lincoln glanced around to make sure no one was in earshot, “This is embarrassing,” he admitted, “I’ve seen clans as large as yours, and larger, packed up and ready to move in one morning.”

Tara huffed a laugh from her position a few feet behind Bellamy. Bellamy resisted the urge to tell her to go float herself.

“This is the first time we’ve ever done a huge migration that wasn’t just falling out of the sky,” Bellamy reminded him.

Lincoln shrugged, “You are sentimental over things that have no use. It slows you down.”

“It’s all we’ve ever known,” Bellamy didn’t like having to defend his people being bad at something, especially when he agreed with Lincoln. He’d managed to pack his and Octavia’s things up fairly quickly. But then again they’d never had much. It was probably all of the Elite who had a bunch of stuff they thought they couldn’t live without, “besides,” he added in a poor attempt to justify his reasons, “your people are used to this. If we ever have to move again we’ll do a lot better.”

Lincoln tipped his head with a smug look on his face—which meant that he was on the verge of smiling—and went to inspect the list on the post Bellamy had seen earlier.

“You’ll need to pack tighter than you expected, if you’re going to make room for the sick and the injured. Not to mention the elderly and the young will need to have some room to be carried,” Lincoln remarked.

Bellamy sighed, “How do your people do it? Move all the time?”

Lincoln shook his head, “In _Trikru_ you are useful, or you are not. Usually only warriors are nomadic, and elders will often retire to towns or villages to help raise children,” he paused a moment, “elderly warriors don’t really exist.”

“Well,” Bellamy shrugged, “I think a few of our older folks actually want to stay here.”

“They will die,” Lincoln agreed.

“We’re not leaving them,” Bellamy groaned, “okay, do you have anything to offer in terms of packing? Is there a special way to do it on earth?”

Lincoln furrowed his brow at Bellamy.

“On the Arc, if we had to move something really big, we’d move it outside, like, in space where there’s no gravity. I’ve never dealt with anything heavier than what I can physically carry,” Bellamy explained.

“Floating,” Lincoln said it like it was a fairytale, “you just floated everything around.”

Every so often Bellamy was reminded that while the people from the Arc and the Grounders could all speak a common english, the languages had still varied on slang terms. They’d figured that out when Lincoln had been telling Octavia and Bellamy about how, as children, he and his friends floated down a stream for hours. It resulted in a lot of confusion and Octavia being sorry for the loss of Lincoln’s friends before they realized the communication error.

The memory of Octavia’s sad eyes brought another uncomfortable truth to Bellamy’s attention, “Lincoln,” he said seriously, quietly, because Tara was nearby, and Lincoln looked up at the tone in his voice, “you can’t tell her. About this,” he gestured to the red collar around his neck, “she can never know. _Ever_.”

“I already made my promise,” Lincoln reminded him, “I will honor my word.”

“If Octavia asks you have to lie,” Bellamy demanded, “and, god, she’s going to ask. We might have Abby and Monty and the others fooled, but Octavia won’t believe it.”

“Maybe you should go on an adventure,” Lincoln offered, “before she wakes up completely. You can have the excuse of falling in love through trial and combat.”

Bellamy gestured around them, “Do you seriously think I can leave right now?”

The corners of Lincoln’s mouth twitched upwards and for a brief second he was genuinely laughing at Bellamy.

“You think this is funny?” Bellamy had the sudden need to break something, and he restrained from kicking any of the bundles of belongings scattered around them.

“I think your people put too much emphasis on what you consider ‘love’,” Lincoln replied cooly, “but if you are worried about Octavia, know that her concern will be because she loves you.”

“What do you consider love then?” Bellamy asked.

Lincoln folded his arms across his chest. He’d never been the most forward with his emotions, which was something Bellamy admired about him, since Bellamy often followed his heart rather than his head.  For a moment Bellamy thought Lincoln might actually brush off his question, as he often did when he didn’t want to answer something. Maybe Grounders didn’t have a concept of love? It made Bellamy a little nervous, since Octavia was clearly in love with Lincoln.

Lincoln looked over Bellamy’s shoulder to the sick hut tucked far away on the edge of the camp, and his entire face softened, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

Once upon a time, Bellamy thought he might have the chance to love someone like that too.

* * *

Bellamy checked in periodically on Octavia. He wanted to be around the moment she woke up. Especially before anyone told her about his engagement. Between checking on Octavia, he was helping Kane and Lincoln with the packing of the wagons. It was a much larger task than he’d originally thought, since they actually had to think about things getting _crushed_ under other things, and how to organize all of the belongings between what felt like a tiny amount of wagons. People weren’t very helpful in that regard either, and Bellamy had to continue explaining why they couldn’t just put all of their things on the cart when it appeared that there was a lot of open room.

One wagon was set aside for all of their medical supplies and food. Originally the patients were going to travel with the supplies until Lincoln and Kane pointed out that it was probably a bad idea to let sick people ride with the food that everyone would be eating. Which meant that they had to rearrange a few wagons _again_. Bellamy was frustrated and fed up with organizing what bags went where, and having to deal with anxious people who kept checking in to make sure their belongings were in the right place. If they were that worried they should just be carrying their stuff like he was going to.

He decided to take a break when Clarke joined them. She was helping Jackson organize all of the medical supplies remaining from the Arc and wanted a walkthrough of where they were at. She went right to Lincoln and Kane instead of him, and really Bellamy should be concerned that only two days after their engagement announcement they were publicly avoiding one another, but he didn’t want Clarke to start scowling at him and making a scene.

Instead he made his way to the food hut lineup. They were serving warm soup and Bellamy couldn’t think of anything better than being warm. A pretty girl walked by, chatting with her friend. Bellamy couldn’t quite remember her name, but before he could stop himself he imagined that it would be pretty nice to kiss her too. They could have some fun warming up together.

“Hey loverboy,” Raven greeted, snapping Bellamy out of his fantasy.

“Raven!” he greeted, a little louder than he intended, “I was, uh, the snow is really something, isn’t it?”

There was no way Raven didn’t know he’d been staring at the girls, and thankfully she didn’t comment on it. It meant she would probably bring it up later, when it was even more inconvenient, but Bellamy wasn’t ready for that conversation right now.

“Who’s this?” Raven nodded to Tara.

She scowled at Raven but didn’t answer.

“Lexa gave Clarke and I bodyguards,” Bellamy explained. He only just remembered that he should probably be happy about that, in front of other people at least.

“She doesn’t trust you to be safe with your own people?” Raven pushed.

“Life on the ground is hard,” Bellamy reminded Raven instead, “we’re just covering all our bases. Besides, as Chancellor I guess I should really be taking care of myself, right?”

“Sorry,” Raven corrected herself, though she was sneering rather than sincere, “I should be calling you Chancellor now, right? Congrats.”

The people in front of him turned around and offered to let Bellamy butt the line, but he wanted to take as much time as possible to be sure to avoid Clarke, so he declined.

“Yeah,” he agreed, deciding to ignore Raven’s contempt for his rise in the ranks, “it’s one thing to be running things, but another to actually have the title,” he looked around them quickly, “where’s Wick?”

Raven rolled her eyes with a groan, and all the anger drained out of her tone, “Hopefully throwing himself into the river. He needs to shock himself back into common sense.”

“Domestic troubles?” Bellamy asked wish a smile. Wick and Raven were often at each others’ throats, though with the undercurrent of strong affection that meant they never were actually mad with one another. Arguing their ideas with one another and butting heads was how they pushed each other to be better. Raven complaining about Wick wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, not that she did often.

True to nature, Raven smiled fondly, “He thinks he knows how to wrap cables better than me, _and_ that we can’t even plan on getting the turbines running until we see the damage ourselves.”

“You caused that explosion,” Bellamy remarked. The line was moving quickly, and Bellamy could smell warm soup and watch the steam pour out of bowls as people walked away with their served meal.

“Exactly!” Raven agreed, “so we know what kind of damage is going on there.  But no, he thinks that we can’t be sure until we see it with our own eyes. Which, obviously there might be stuff we missed or that we can’t predict, but we can at least have a plan and start brainstorming.”

Her brace was trailing in the snow, and already her boot and the bottom of her pants were looking soaked. Bellamy didn’t ask and carried Raven’s bowl for her. She pretended not to notice by talking with her hands, as if she needed a real reason for not carrying her own food. Tara outright rejected having a bowl of soup with barred teeth and a hiss, and skulked along behind them.

“How are you doing with the snow?” Bellamy asked as they sat down. Some people had moved quickly to clear him a space at a nearby bench, and this time he didn’t mind taking advantage of his position as Chancellor. The soup was searing hot through the bowl and his finger wraps, but it was heat and was already bringing back some sense of feeling to his hands.

Raven pulled her bowl close to herself, “It’s fine,” she said dismissively, “besides, once we’re in the mountain the snow won’t be an issue.”

They both ate like people from working stations: quickly, and hunched over their food because they had to protect it from anyone who might try and take it from them. The soup was mostly broth, and weak at that—it might actually be yesterday’s soup with more water added to top it up—but it was delicious all the same.

“You’ll have everything ready to go?” Bellamy asked, in case Raven wanted to steer the conversation anywhere other than work, “we’ll be sitting ducks without electricity.”

“We’ll get it done,” Raven nodded, and took a moment to slurp the last of her broth from her bowl.

“Lincoln said that bread goes well with soup. Did you get a chance to try any?” Bellamy asked. When they’d made their first allegiance with the Grounders there had been a big dinner to celebrate, and the people from the Arc had gotten to try all sorts of foods they’d heard of but never had a chance to try themselves. Bread had been one of Bellamy’s favorites, and he and Octavia had made Lincoln go on in detail about all the different types of bread there were. The kids who had been held in Mt Weather, when they could talk about their time there, had a lot of good things to say about the food they’d been served.

Raven nodded, and made a face, “It was… chewy. And weird, but I think I can see what he’s talking about.”

“There’s a huge kitchen in Mt Weather. We’ll have to get creative with recipes,” Bellamy said.

“Does Clarke know about us?” Raven asked, getting right to the point. Sometimes Bellamy hated how direct she was.

“Does Wick?” Bellamy fired back.

“I’m not marrying him,” Raven pointed out, “besides, Clarke’s a friend.”

“You haven’t talked to her since she got back, and besides, she did sleep with someone you loved, so maybe this is fair trade,” Bellamy offered. It might’ve been harsh to bring up Finn—he still wasn’t entirely sure how Raven and Clarke felt about the whole thing, or even how they were friends instead—but he wanted Raven to back off and stop asking questions.

“Clarke’s a friend,” Raven repeated, “and I need to know if you were in love with her when we had our fling.”

Bellamy groaned, “Clarke is well aware that I slept around. It’s fine, and our relationship is none of your business.” Clarke had to know. Bellamy had never tried to hide any of his relations with the other delinquents before the Arc crashed, and while she wouldn’t know about anything since she’d left them, what Bellamy did in his spare time was none of her business.

“I look out for my friends,” Raven warned. Back to Bellamy’s ogling mistake earlier.

“So what are we?” Bellamy asked, “I thought we were friends.”

“I liked Clarke first, because you were a dick” Raven reminded him, “but I think you and I are friends now. I was just friends with Clarke first.”

“You’re telling me to watch my back?” Bellamy asked.

“I’m telling you to be sure you’re not rushing things. Are you really ready for _marriage_?” Raven pressed, “you never struck me as the type who even wanted to get married.”

“I love Clarke,” Bellamy replied automatically.

“And yet apparently you love the Commander too,” Raven growled.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Bellamy replied.

“I don’t understand,” Raven snapped, “how you and Clarke can just forget what happened. What she did to us!”

“Raven,” Bellamy warned.

Raven sat back, a sneer on her face, “Yeah, yeah, you’re the Chancellor now. I should treat you with proper respect and all that. You’re still Bellamy, and she’s still Clarke. I don’t know what’s wrong with the both of you but if you honestly love her then I can’t change that.”

Raven struggled to stand and picked up her empty bowl herself, “The fact that you love her doesn’t mean shit to me. She’s a ruthless monster, and I won’t be surprised when she kills both of you in your sleep.”

“Thanks,” Bellamy said dryly.

“Just getting in my ‘told you so’ before it’s too late,” Raven replied. She turned away without another word and left.  

“Shall I kill her?” Tara asked softly, a hand on her sword.

Bellamy spun in his seat, “No! You can’t kill _anyone_!”

Tara rolled her eyes and scoffed. People were staring at them now, so Bellamy gathered his empty bowl to return it to the food hut to be cleaned. He kept his head down and resisted the urge to go check on Octavia again. The camp would fall into disarray without him.

* * *

The appeal of snow started to wear off pretty quickly. It was cold, it soaked his boots and the bottom of his pants and made his toes and ankles numb and wet. It was blinding to look at, and it turned what were perfectly fine paths into treacherous nightmares. People were continuously slipping and falling on the snow, which only made them wetter, and just put everyone into a progressively fowler mood. Bellamy had just helped Monroe get to the Arc to have her arm looked at. She’d fallen hard on it and it was swelling badly.

He was trying to figure out how best to deal with the snow—could they remove it? Was there a way to make paths in it or pack it down so people wouldn’t slip or get it in their shoes anymore?—when Miller ran up to him.

“Bellamy you gotta come quick,” he said.

Bellamy felt a rush of adrenaline. Was Octavia sick? Had Lexa turned on them? “What?” he demanded, and sped up to stay with Miller as they started jogging back across the camp.

“They won’t move, and they want to take all of the food. I think there’s gonna be a fight,” Miller was explaining.

“The grounders?” Bellamy asked.

“No,” Miller said, “ours.”

Into the residential part of camp, where all the huts and homes were built practically on top of one another, was Kane shouting at people standing in their doorways while they threw snowballs, rocks, and what Bellamy hoped was mud, at him.

“What the hell?” Bellamy demanded loudly.

The look of relief on Kane’s face when he saw them only worried Bellamy more, “ _Chancellor_ ,” he said loudly. That was bad. Kane still wasn’t entirely happy about being demoted by someone younger than him, but for him to be announcing Bellamy like that meant he was really hoping that Bellamy’s rank could help him.

All of the open doors and windows immediately slammed shut, everyone barricading themselves inside. There had to be at least five homes, which meant at least fifteen people were involved, if not more.

Bellamy gestured around, “What the hell?” he repeated.

Kane groaned and ran his hands down his face. He looked exhausted, and his face was red from yelling, “I was doing rounds, knocking on doors to make sure everyone knew exactly what they could pack and how to do so, because I was hoping that would speed things up. And then,” he gestured to the antagonistic homes, “I found out we have a separatist movement.”

“Separatists,” Bellamy echoed.

“They think this camp is our home, because the Arc is here. They aren’t willing to let the grounders have it, and aren’t willing to live with the grounders either,” Kane explained, “so they’ve decided that they’re not coming to Mt Weather with us.”

“They’re going to stay here,” Bellamy clarified, “without any guards, guns, or food. Alone.”

“Well they think we’re going to leave them guns, and all of the food,” Kane explained, “because the food was gathered here, that means it belongs here.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Bellamy said.

“I told them that,” Kane agreed, “and then they started throwing things.”

“Okay,” Bellamy sighed, “I got this.”

He walked past Miller and Kane towards the offending homes and planted himself at what looked like the edge of their throwing range. Tara, his apathetic guard, was standing back from the excitement. Next time he saw Lexa he’d make sure she understood he didn’t need a bodyguard.

“Listen up!” he shouted, “we are leaving tomorrow, if not today. We need everyone ready to go, so we don’t have time for this!”

“We’re not going!” a female voice called back.

“The Arc is our home, it has always been our home! We won’t abandon it for the savages!” a male voice, from a different house, responded.

“You’re going to freeze if you stay here,” Bellamy tried to explain, “you think it’s cold today? It’s only going to get colder.”

“We’ll build igloos, like the Old Earth people!” a man shouted. A few doors cracked open so Bellamy could see their angry faces peering at him. Some of them reached down to start packing snow to throw at him.

“There’s no food,” Bellamy tried to reason, “and we _are_ taking what little we have here with us. You’ll starve before winter ends.”

“That’s our food!” the first woman shouted, and she threw her snowball in his direction. It landed a few feet away from him. He heard Tara snort.

This was ridiculous.

“I really don’t have time to argue, but we can’t leave you here,” Bellamy said.

A rock was lobed in his direction, still safely off the mark.

“The savages can’t have the Arc! They can’t have our food! This is our home!”

“The grounders are working with us,” Bellamy stressed, “we’re going to be sharing resources. Now, I don’t care if you like them or not but you have to finish packing by the end of the day or else you leave your stuff behind. That’s an order from your Chancellor.”

“I didn’t vote for you!”

“I am your Chancellor whether you like it or not. And I’ll be happy to talk about any worries you have if you’ll just be sure to be packed to go.” Bellamy had half a mind to leave them here. He knew there was a little kid in at least one of the homes, and that meant he absolutely couldn’t leave them behind, but it was nice to think for a moment that he could just walk away.

“You can leave, but you can’t have the food.”

 “It’s not your food, it belongs to everyone.”

“Then it belongs to us!”

“Look,” he groaned, “you can’t stay! That’s final! We’ll drag you out if we have to!”

“Bellamy,” Kane said softly, warning him. He was right. Bellamy was losing his cool. He couldn’t let his anger get the best of him. He always regretted the things he did under the influence of his temper.

“Do you have any suggestions?” Bellamy turned to face Kane and Miller, and stopped short when he spotted Lexa and Clarke heading for them. Lexa was striding like she was on a mission and Clarke was moving quickly to keep up. That couldn’t mean anything good.

“Are you ready to move?” Lexa demanded in lieu of a greeting.

Bellamy gestured to the doors that had all slammed shut at the appearance of the Commander, “No, we ran into a little hiccup. Besides, it’s still early—“

“We must leave _now_ ,” Lexa ordered.

“Lexa you haven’t explained why,” Clarke said. Clearly she’d been grabbed by the Commander and dragged here without any reason.

“We’ve waited too long,” Lexa said dismissively, “this is dragging on. Now what’s keeping you?”

“We have a separatist group,” Bellamy said.

“Separatist?” Clarke echoed. As if he’d make something like that up, “they want to stay? But they’ll die.”

“I’ve already explained that to them, just like Kane did earlier,” Bellamy snapped. Did she think he was stupid? He could act on his own without Clarke telling him what to do, “but if you want to sit here and argue with them, then be my guest.”

“Do they think they can live in these shacks?” Lexa huffed a laugh and Bellamy was nearly floored at seeing her express an actual emotion, “we don’t have time for this.”

Before Bellamy or Clarke could stop her she strode forwards to the spot Bellamy had been standing earlier.

“People of _Skaikru_ ,” she shouted, sounding so much louder than her small frame should be able to, “I am informed that you think you can survive the winter on your own?” There were muffled shouts from inside the homes, “you can’t!” Lexa snarled, “winter is savage and can strike down even the strongest warriors. The nights are long and dark and the cold will freeze your blood. There is nothing to eat, nothing to burn, and nowhere to go.”

“We don’t need your help!” a brave man finally shouted. He didn’t open his door to her.

“And are you prepared to fight the _pakstoka_? The _pauna_? The _Wushkripa_ that will drag you from your home and eat you while you scream? Or defend against the other clans who will raid you for supplies? I think not!”

“Stop her,” Clarke hissed to Bellamy, “she’s scaring them.”

“Me stop her?” Bellamy snapped back, wary of Miller and Kane just a few feet away, “why don’t you do something?”

The woman who had thrown a snowball at Bellamy earlier opened her door. In a show of incredible bravery—or stupidity—she stepped out of her home to face Lexa.

She spat at the ground in Lexa’s direction, “Go float yourself, savage. We’ll defend our home like we always have!”

Lexa moved like an animal. One moment she was staring the woman down, the next she was running and closing the distance between them in leaps and bounds. Bellamy started running before he could think. All he knew was that Lexa was going to kill this woman.

The woman screamed and raced back into her home. Whoever was inside tried to get the door closed but Lexa reached them too soon and in a show of strength kicked the door right off its hinges.

“Defend yourself now!” Lexa snarled.

“Lexa!” Bellamy shouted. He reached her a moment later and grabbed her around the waist, hauling her backwards.

“It’s a cultural difference,” Clarke was explaining hurriedly behind him, “but now that your door is broken, you have to leave.”

“You can’t do this to us!” the woman who’d tried to stare down Lexa was shouting hysterically.

Lexa was thrashing in Bellamy’s arms and he nearly threw her down.

“What the hell?” he hissed.

“We don’t have time for them,” she snapped, and she actually looked angry too, “they need to understand the truth. They will obey, or they will die. You are far too soft in dealing with them.”

“You can’t just attack our people!” Bellamy was barely kept himself from attacking her. He stayed between her and the houses, just in case she tried to take another run at them. She was smaller than him, and he’d thought that one-on-one he might be able to best her, but after seeing her kick in a door he wasn’t so confident in his chances anymore.

“ _Lexa_ ,” Clarke said, sickeningly sweet, “I’m sure you want to apologize for scaring these people.”

Lexa forced any hint of rage out of her expression, putting on her cold, expressionless mask again, “of course, _niron_.”

She shoved past the two of them and walked up to the woman who was hyperventilating in her doorway.

Lexa bowed her head slightly, “I have been informed that _Skaikru_ are not used to shows of power. You are free to make up your mind about whether you want to die here, or live in the mountain, but we will be leaving shortly. With or without you.”

“Today?” Kane echoed, “we aren’t ready!”

“I must speak with my _houmons_ ,” Lexa ordered, turning back to Bellamy and Clarke.

“We’re not ready to leave today, what are you talking about?” Clarke demanded.

Lexa led them further away from the people, though Kane and Miller were following close behind. Bellamy waved them to stand back so the three of them could talk privately. He sure had some choice words for the Commander.

“I have had scouts watching the path to the mountain, keeping it clear of any thieves or assailants,” Lexa explained.

“And?” Bellamy pressed, “why are you forcing this?”

“ _Azgeda_ ,” Lexa said, and Clarke gasped softly, “the Ice Nation is moving into my territory. If they discover I am camped here with you, they will know that we plan to take the mountain and they will steal it from us.”

“They can’t do anything with it,” Clarke reasoned, “they don’t know the technology.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Lexa insisted, “if the _Azplana_ can get her army between us and the mountain, then we are all dead.”

“Where’s your army?” Bellamy asked, “why not fight back?”

“The clans all returned to their own territories when the war ended,” Lexa said, “I would not be able to summon them in time. They cannot help us. We must move fast and move quickly to take the mountain before _Azgeda_. Anything left behind we can arrange for supply runs if you truly need it.”

Clarke pinched the bridge of her nose, “This is… this is too fast. But okay. We need to start loading up the sick, right now. And all the medical supplies. And the food. That’s most important. And people are going to have to carry most of their stuff because we didn’t get a chance to repack all of the wagons. They’re going to be mad about it, but we can be ready. In, um, an hour. Maybe more.”

“Faster. It’s going to be difficult,” Lexa admitted, “we will have to push hard. I had hoped we could make the trek easy, and camp overnight if need be, but we don’t have the luxury of time. Now, since _Azgeda_ is in the territory it means they will be watching the roads. I think we should take alternative routes.”

“Which way is the fastest?” Bellamy asked, “we have guns. We have your warriors. I think we just plow through and show this Ice Nation not to mess with us.”

“With a loaded caravan we cannot risk battle,” Lexa insisted, “we will lose. The other routes are almost as fast—”

“Then why aren’t they normally used?” Clarke asked.

“We have to cross the river. There is one bridge, you know this, and that is surely where an ambush waits for us,” Lexa said, “if we go around the bridge, it will gain us some time before they realize we tricked them. We send a small party of warriors to distract the ambush to give us more time.”

“How do we cross the river without a bridge?” Bellamy asked warily.

“The river freezes solid in the winter,” Lexa explained, “the ice is so thick you can ride your horse over it many times.”

“It hasn’t been nearly cold enough to freeze!” Clarke almost shouted.

“We must hope it has, or we find somewhere to ford the river,” Lexa insisted, “if we cross at the bridge we will lose too much.”

“No,” Bellamy said, “we’re not swimming across a freezing river or walking on thin ice. We go for the bridge, check it out. With our weapons I’m sure we can get through.”

“You have too many sick to risk such an action,” Lexa said.

“We have our guns,” Bellamy said, “and that’s final. We go through the bridge.”

Lexa barred her teeth, “it’s not just _your_ people that we could lose. I have an obligation to my people as well. Many of my warriors are in Mt Weather right now, getting ready for you to arrive. I have elders and children with me, and I cannot risk their lives because you are afraid of the cold!”

“Bellamy’s right,” Clarke said, “we have guns. We can attack from afar. We’ll use scouts to find the _Azgeda_ warriors and then we’ll kill them. The straight drive through is our best bet.”

Lexa almost looked shocked, as if she’d expected Clarke to take her side, “Don’t let your feelings for me cloud your judgement,” she warned, “if you fire one gun you will bring the whole army down on us.”

“We’re doing this my way,” Bellamy confirmed, “I’ll go make the announcement.”

Lexa all but growled as Bellamy walked away from her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the race is on! Who’s gonna make it to Mt Weather first? Ice Nation, or the Skaikru/Trikru union?!
> 
> The angry cuddles are here! Spiteful spooning is one of my favorite tropes and is probably the biggest inspiration for writing this story. There will absolutely be more grumpy bed sharing in the future.
> 
> Yay Raven! I’m happy this chapter came on the heels of a good Raven episode. I told you I didn’t forget about her and Bellamy hooking up! And she’s looking out for Clarke (:  (in her own way, but she does care!)
> 
> Quick note that I forgot to say in the beginning: the reason everyone is confessing to Clarke about sleeping with Bellamy is because they don’t know when Clarke and Bellamy were in love, and they’re worried about potentially having been in the way of Clarke and Bellamy (and Lexa) falling in love! Because the Arc society puts such pressure and status on being in True Love (getting married) these people are all coming forwards to essentially ‘confess their sins’. It’s really not a normal thing, since this isn’t really a normal (Arc) marriage.
> 
> Lexa does not mess around either. She is small but mighty. We know that the grounders had to deal with high levels of radiation after the bombs fell, and that the earth at large is still very radioactive. While they exile most physical mutations, I like to imagine that a lot of invisible mutations live on in their society. Like say, for instance, black blood or being abnormally strong?
> 
> That’s it for this week! I love hearing back from y’all. I am but a simple writing beast and your reviews sustain me for another week.
> 
> See ya next Saturday, for the Great Migration!


	10. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back everyone! Exciting times here: the fic has reached double-digit chapters! Wahoo!
> 
> What a scary episode this week. Glad to see ghost stories still exist in a post-nuclear fallout space colony. And Sinclair! NO! He’s always protected and helped the kids, I’m so upset to lose him ):
> 
> There's a lot of plot points/questions in this chapter that you might have to dig at to figure out. But everything will become clearer as we go on! For now, enjoy a little mystery ;)
> 
> Warm thank-yous to everyone who’s reviewed the story! I live for your comments and they are the highlights of my week.
> 
> Without further ado, onto the Great Migration!

 

“Make sure her hands and feet are covered! And her head! She’ll lose a lot of heat there,” Abby instructed.

Clarke was up on the wagon strapping in all of the sick people who couldn’t walk. Her mother was referring to Octavia, who Lincoln had just brought out. She hadn’t woken up yet, which wasn’t exactly a great sign, but she wasn’t feverish either. The biggest concern during the move was going to be exposure. Clarke was busy making sure everyone was as tightly packed as possible, and tucked in as much as possible. To keep them all warm, and to keep them all immobile during the trip.

Camp Jaha was a mess. People were shouting and running around, many of them panicked and on the verge of tears at the thought of leaving their safe home on the ground. Many of the Arc people hadn’t been more than a mile away from Camp the entire time they’d been on the ground.

They were nearing an hour of hard work and rushed packing, and it finally looked like they were getting somewhere. Lexa’s camp had been packed up and was ready to move out in much shorter time, and with a lot more finesse. Now there were some grounders walking throughout the camp offering to help, and more often than not they were being rudely turned away.

“Abby!” Wick called, jogging through the packed snow and dragging a furious Raven with him.

“What’s wrong?” her mother asked. Clarke kept her head down but paid attention to the conversation.

“Raven needs a place on a wagon,” Wick said, “with her leg she can’t—”

“I can walk just fine,” Raven snapped, “so mind your own business.”

“I do need someone to keep an eye on the sick,” Abby said.

“Then you do it,” Raven said, “I’m fine.”

Abby shook her head, “I’m walking at the back of the group. I have to make sure no one falls behind.”

“Raven,” Wick said in a tone that made Clarke’s stomach lurch. He really cared about her. She could remember times when Finn had talked to her like that—saying one word but saying so much more. _I love you. Let me help you._

“I’m an engineer, not a nanny,” Raven muttered, and crossed her arms across her chest. But it was clear she was giving in.

Clarke decided to jump in, and sat up so that she could be seen from their vantage point, “I’ll get you a gun, Raven. You’ll be our guard.”

Raven considered this for a moment and then nodded sullenly, “At least I’ll be useful.” Clarke took that as a small victory for herself. At least Raven hadn’t turned her down just to show she was still mad.

“You’re always useful,” Abby insisted.

“And a pain in my ass,” Wick laughed, and he leaned down to kiss her. Clarke turned away so she didn’t have to see it. The phantom pain of Finn’s absence felt too real and she needed something to do to keep herself from remembering all that she was missing. And everything she’d never have. She left to get Raven a gun without looking back.

* * *

By the time Clarke had finished arguing with the guards for Raven to have her own firearm, the camp was ready to move. That wasn’t entirely correct—there was so much they were leaving behind simply because they didn’t have the space to load it all with all of the sick, injured, young and elderly that needed to ride on the wagons too. It was embarrassing how badly Clarke felt she’d failed in getting her people organized.

Raven was perched near the front of the wagon, sitting with her back to the grounder who was going to be driving. Clarke propped herself up with a foot in the axis of the wheel, and handed the gun over to Raven.

“Here,” she said, “keep them safe. If anything happens—”

“Both your mom and Jackson, as well as you, are in earshot. I got it,” Raven snatched the gun.

Clarke felt stung at the dismissal and hopped down without a word.

“Clarke,” Raven called, and she leaned over the edge of the wagon. Her face softened and she smiled softly, “thanks, for this.” She held up the gun.

“You’re a good shot,” Clarke smiled back, “take care of them.”

“Do not use the _fayogon_ ,” Lexa growled beside Clarke. Clarke nearly jumped out of her skin, and Raven’s smile instantly became a snarl and she retreated back into the wagon. Clarke accepted that small victory: Raven was trying to avoid Lexa so she didn’t start a fight, hopefully out of respect that she was Clarke’s fiancé. And Bellamy’s.

“We know how to keep a low profile,” Clarke said.

Lexa was eyeing the spot where Raven’s face had last been, and she slowly turned her gaze to face Clarke. She’d put on her war paint again. Up close again, Clarke realized that it might not be paint after all. Lexa’s blood was unusually dark, or at least it dried black if the well-faded and flaked off symbols on Clarke’s and Bellamy’s foreheads were anything to go by. Clarke wouldn’t be surprised if she used her own blood as war paint.

“We should not be taking this route,” Lexa said again.

“Bellamy and I decided,” Clarke reminded her, “you were outvoted.”

“Your democracy could get us all killed,” Lexa said.

Clarke walked away from her, hoping to end the conversation there, but Lexa followed her. People were looking at them, they couldn’t help but stare wherever Clarke, Lexa or Bellamy went with their red collars. Clarke slowed down so Lexa could walk beside her and decided that she wanted to be a little petty today.

“I thought you liked to fight, or are you used to running away now?” she hissed.

Lexa didn’t flinch at the insult and it angered Clarke that she could brush off an accusation just like that.

“I pick my battles,” Lexa said after a moment, “that is why I am still alive.”

“And I finish your fights,” Clarke growled, “so shut up and do what I tell you.”

Lexa glared at her and Clarke glared right back. Part of her wanted Lexa to go for her sword, to give Clarke a reason to attack her. She would lose, most likely. Lexa had been trained from a young age to be a warrior, by Anya no less. Clarke didn’t have that kind of experience, but she had a rage with the intensity of the sun inside of her and nowhere to release it.

“ _Heda_ ,” a familiar voice cut in, “the horses are ready.”

Clarke and Lexa stopped for Po, who was standing at attention behind them. Clarke hoped he hadn’t overheard them fighting.

“Where are you riding?” Clarke asked.

“I will lead the way,” Lexa replied coolly, as if Clarke hadn’t just insulted her seconds ago, “Clarke, ride with me.”

Riding with Lexa had been one of Clarke’s favorite things about their alliance. It had been one of the things that had led to her growing fond for the Commander. She couldn’t stomach the idea of having to spend hours riding with Lexa now.

“I think Bellamy would love to ride with you,” Clarke lied, “he loves horses. Besides, I have to stay with the sick to monitor them.”

Clarke would much rather walk for hours in silence with Raven still angry with her than spend five more minutes pretending to be civil with Lexa.

Lexa’s eyes glittered dangerously, “Let’s ask him,” she said.

Bellamy was sending Miller and Bryon on one last check around the Camp to make sure no one was left behind. He looked mad as Clarke and Lexa walked up to him. Clarke wasn’t entirely happy to see him either. He’d been nothing but angry at her—for good reason, she’d gotten them into this mess—and also all but useless since he spent all his time sitting with his sister rather than helping keep the camp in order. Lexa had assigned him a lean, lanky towering waif of a guard, and all she did was stand around and glare at everyone. Clarke was happy that Po was much more helpful.

“What?” Bellamy snapped, and realized Po was following right behind them and tried to adjust his tone, “can I do for you two?”

“Lexa wants you to ride up front with her,” Clarke explained, “the horse is ready to go.”

“I hate horses,” Bellamy said.

Lexa’s expression didn’t change, but Clarke knew she was laughing at her.

“I need to stay with the sick and keep an eye on everyone. Besides, with my bow, I’m best suited to guard everyone walking, not sitting out in front doing nothing,” Clarke explained. There wasn’t much she could actually do for the sick while they were on the move, but no one else needed to know that.

“No,” Bellamy said, “I’m walking with the people. They need to see their leader on the ground with them.”

“I’m their leader too,” Clarke reminded him, “if anyone should be on the ground it needs to be me.” If Bellamy walked while she and Lexa rode horses, a symbol of power and otherness, then it would only create a larger gap between Clarke and the people of the Arc.

“We have a horse for you too, Bellamy,” Lexa explained.

Bellamy shook his head, “I’m not riding anything. I’m walking.”

“I’m walking too,” Clarke said.

“And let her lead the way?” Bellamy nodded at Lexa, “uh, alone? No, you should be there. To keep her company.”

“No,” Clarke insisted.

Bellamy held up his hands like he was helpless to do anything, and he had the same smug look on his face that he’d had when they first landed on earth and Clarke wanted to hit him, “Sorry Clarke, the horse is ready. Nothing I can do.”

He backed off and left Clarke with Lexa.

“We must leave now,” Lexa insisted, “we’ve wasted most of the morning getting your camp ready. There are not many more hours of sunlight left.”

“Fine,” Clarke snapped, “lets get going.”

* * *

Clarke didn’t win any favors walking her horse through camp and announcing that they were leaving. People were panicked and didn’t know what to do or where to go, or they weren’t moving fast enough and yelled at her for rushing them. There were too many sad faces: teary and terrified at the thought of leaving the Arc for the first time in their life.

Bellamy, Kane and her mother were all helping get people in line. There was a line of armed Arc guards herding people into a disorganized mass. Clarke moved her horse past them, mindful to keep her distance in case the horse stepped on anyone. She left the gates of Camp Jaha and made her way to the front of the column of people, where Lexa and her clan were waiting.

Lexa was wearing her black cloak with the hood drawn up. It made the green of her eyes stand out against her dark skin and caused her to look more like a beast perched on the back of her huge horse than a human.

“Well?” she asked, impatient. She wasn’t even holding the reigns of her horse, and it was standing perfectly still. Clarke had always been a little jealous of Lexa’s skills with her horse.

Clarke pulled up beside her, trying to pull to a stop with little effort. Her horse shuffled forwards in the snow and Clarke had to twist in the saddle to talk to Lexa.

“We’re ready,” Clarke confirmed, “my mom and Kane will make sure everyone keeps up.”

“We have to drive them hard and fast. It will not be an easy trip,” Lexa said, and turned to a fully-covered grounder near her, “sound the call. It’s time to leave.”

The grounder pulled back her shawl to reveal Indra’s determined face. She nodded once to Lexa and took the horn from her belt and blew three short notes. Instantly the entire group got to their feet and started collecting their bags and provisions. Clarke envied the efficiency.

“Clarke,” Lexa said, neutral in tone, “would you like to lead the way?”

Clarke’s neck ached from twisting to look at Lexa, and her horse was ahead already. She took a moment to put on her head wrapping, covering her ears and chin and nose to protect from the cold. She didn’t ask if Lexa was ready and kicked her heels into the horses’ side and started off at a trot. Lexa’s massive black horse caught up with her quickly.

“Perhaps you will want to conserve your energy,” Lexa suggested, “our people are on foot, they would appreciate a slower pace.”

Clarke was happy her face was covered so Lexa couldn’t see her embarrassed flush. She should have known better than to charge ahead. It made her angry that Lexa set her up like that.

“You said we needed to hurry,” Clarke responded instead of admitting her mistake.

Lexa narrowed her eyes briefly, turning away from Clarke to look at the trail ahead, “Hurry, yes. But drive them into the ground, no.”

“Then you set the pace,” Clarke muttered, “since you’re so good at it.”

“ _Mafta op ai_ ,” Lexa insisted.

Lexa was being dismissive, and altogether neutral, but still far too playful and friendly for Clarke’s liking. She and Clarke had been close, once, but now things were different and Clarke would never forget what Lexa had done to them. To her. Just because they were going to be married didn’t mean anything had changed.

Clarke’s stomach lurched at the thought. Her horse crunched snow under its hooves, sure of its step even though Clarke could barely make out the trail. She let the reins go slack in her hand, as her horse was content to follow Lexa’s horse, and turned in the saddle. Behind them, stretching out in a long line were their people. Grounders and the people of the Arc. There was an obvious gap between the two groups, with armed guards—including Bellamy, Clarke was sure—walking behind the grounders with their weapons drawn. Her people were still filing out of Camp Jaha, crowded around the wagons. Clarke couldn’t spot her mother in the crowd, but knew she was somewhere in the back.

All the fires were out in the camp, something Clarke had never seen. There were no lights on in the Arc. They’d shut down all power, leaving only the emergency backups that could only be activated if certain parts were returned. Raven, Wick and Sinclair had closed the main airlocks, making the Arc virtually unusable to anyone but someone from the Arc. The camp, even though people were still walking out of the main gates, looked desolate. As if it knew it was being abandoned.

Clarke had never felt any loyalty to Camp Jaha. It had barely been her home. She still thought of the drop ship and the camp that the 100 delinquents had made when they first arrived on earth as her home. After leaving the drop ship she’d mostly been in Lexa’s camp, and then on her own. Her heart wasn’t breaking over leaving the camp like most other peoples were, and a part of Clarke felt bad that she didn’t love their home like they did, but the other part of her was glad to put it behind her. It was the place where Finn died, where she’d killed him. She’d managed to stop tricking herself into seeing him while she was awake, and now maybe she could stop seeing him in her dreams.

Lexa led them into the trees, and Camp Jaha faded from sight.

* * *

Clarke tried to keep her distance from Lexa. It was bad enough that she was riding up front with the Commander, while her people travelled further back with Bellamy. They all probably thought she was siding with Lexa because of their previous alliance, and that Clarke was just abandoning them again. But not Bellamy, of course. Bellamy walked with them and didn’t ride a horse like Clarke did. The thought made her grind her teeth in frustration. If she could have been back with her people she would be, but Bellamy was right. One of them needed to keep an eye on Lexa. It should have been him, but he was less concerned with forming a united front for their people and more concerned about making Clarke suffer for what she’d dragged both of them into.

It wasn’t like she was happy about getting married to Lexa either. They’d had no other choice, backed into a corner like they were. They could have waged war against Lexa and lost many more lives, and let many more people get sick and die, or they agree to her terms and marry her. Clarke wondered if she could have lived with herself if they hadn’t gone through with the engagement.

 Clarke glared at the Commander. Her black winter cloak soaked up the light around her, making her appear as a living shadow from behind. With her space-black horse as well she looked like a nightmare come to life. Wells, Clarke remembered, had once been interested in an old Earth text that talked about the end of the world and the four horsemen who would accompany it. She couldn’t remember all of their names, except for war and death. Lexa fit both those descriptions.

It would be too easy, from where she was, to take her small bow and fire an arrow into Lexa’s chest. Or her head. Or maybe her spine, and let her suffer without being able to run so that all of the Arc people could take their turn cutting her like how the grounders did it.

“Clarke,” Lexa turned in her saddle to look back at her, “join me.”

They’d agreed to keep up pretenses even in front of Lexa’s people, so Clarke didn’t argue. She sped her horse up and fell in line beside Lexa.

“What?” Clarke asked impatiently. She was just starting to forget the cold with her daydreaming.

“I have to say again that crossing the bridge is a terrible idea,” Lexa explained, “our enemy expects us to take that route. Going around them is sure to buy us a few hours. Besides, _Azgeda_ does not know our land like I do. They won’t know there’s another place to cross so they will be unable to guard it.”

“It’s still too warm for good ice to form, right?” Clarke asked, “and none of my people can swim. Your route is too dangerous. Bellamy was right. We have guns. That will drive them back.”

“Your people have always had guns and yet you struggle daily to survive,” Lexa insisted, “guns do not make you master of the world. You must have strategy to handle warfare.”

“Your strategy doesn’t make me feel very safe,” Clarke snapped, “considering your strategy was to leave me behind, and force me to kill all those people.”

Lexa, shockingly, looked humbled by Clarke’s attack. She remained silent for a moment, staring ahead, before she said softly, “I did not make you kill those people.”

“You did!” Clarke nearly shouted, “we had them. They would have surrendered and returned all of our people but you left—” she wanted to say _me_ and her heart stuttered in horror at admitting that to Lexa, “you left my people to die.”

Lexa turned her gaze to face Clarke now, but it wasn’t the intensity Clarke was expecting.

“They offered me a deal. They deliver to me my people, and I retreat. Our plan was based on many weak theories, hopes and dreams that it would all go according to our plan. I was offered a guarantee that my people would be safe. For the price of strangers who had done nothing but antagonize me and court war, my people would be safe. Would you not have taken that deal too?” Lexa asked.

Clarke felt sick. She could see the weights and balances in the logistics of the scenario. She could see the risk assessment Lexa had made, and she could almost feel the chasm where emotion should have come into play. She understood it too well.

“I would never betray my friends,” Clarke growled.

“Were we friends?” Lexa asked. Clarke thought back to their kiss. Lexa was probably thinking the same. Of the potential that had been there, and the attraction.

Clarke held her gaze and hoped Lexa could feel the burn of Clarke’s rage, “You lost any hope of being anything to me when you abandoned me.”

“Hate is an exhausting emotion,” Lexa said after a moment, “it feels like power, like a bonfire in your body but you realize too late that it is burning you alive. It leaves you hollow.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” Clarke said, “have you ever felt anything in your life? You told me you loved Costia, but I find that pretty hard to believe.”

Of course Clarke had seen Lexa angered or irritated during their time together, but Lexa had a way of detaching herself from her emotions that made it seem like she just pretended to have them in order to pass as human.

Lexa narrowed her eyes, and Clarke glared right back. If Lexa thought Clarke would ever defer to her, she was wrong.

“Emotions—love, hate, all of them. They will destroy you,” Lexa finally growled, “which is why you should let the hatred go.”

“Because it’s better to be heartless?” Clarke asked.

Lexa looked back to the path ahead, and her voice was surprisingly somber and soft, “Yes,” she said, “it is better to feel nothing at all.”

* * *

They had been on the trail for a few hours when news came from Bellamy. Indra jogged to catch up to Clarke and Lexa’s horses.

“ _Heda_ , _Wanheda_ ,” she panted, “ _chichnes kom Wangona”_

Clarke looked back down the train of wagons and horses and people. Her people seemed further away then when they’d started the trek. _Wangona_ meant Bellamy was doing something. It had better be important if he was stopping them in the middle of nowhere for it.

“English, Indra,” Lexa said.

“ _Skaikru_ is weary and must tend to their ill,” Indra said, “they are stopping.”

Clarke was sore from riding and welcomed the chance to dismount for a little bit.

“We’ll break here,” Lexa agreed, “but only briefly. No fires. Keep watch, we are nearing the bridge.”

“Yes, Commander,” Indra nodded, and started spreading the orders down the line.

“This is a terrible idea,” Lexa said as soon as Indra was out of earshot, “what is Bellamy thinking? We don’t have time for this.”

She had a slight accent when saying his name that Clarke hadn’t noticed before. Instead of the ‘ah’ sound in the middle Lexa pronounced it with an ‘oh’ sound. Thinking on how Trigedaslang words were written Clarke had an idea of why.

“I’ll find out how long they need,” Clarke said.

“I’ll join you,” Lexa insisted.

Clarke felt like Lexa was starting to smother her. She wouldn’t let Clarke out of her sight all day. Was this how the rest of their life was going to be? Carefully watching one another to make sure they didn’t sabotage each other?

They dismounted and let their horses rest for a little bit. The snow was lighter in the forest, though it still came up to the tops of Clarke’s boots. Snow continually blew off the branches and into their faces, making it feel like it was still snowing. With the dark clouds overhead it was a possibility that it was still snowing. Everything was dark and cold and Clarke was nervous. They were heading into dangerous territory and such a large group was a target just asking to be attacked.

Clarke didn’t bother looking for Bellamy amongst the other guards. He’d be back checking on his sister. Her stomach twisted nervously. What if something had happened to Octavia? That would be more than enough reason for Bellamy to stop everyone.

People were cold and miserable, and too tired to gossip. They gave Lexa, Clarke and Po bitter looks from the corners of their eyes as they passed through. Clarke kept her head high and tried to ignore Lexa following on her heels.

Jackson rushed past them, carrying a medkit from the wagon they’d stored their medicine on. He was running for the cart hauling the sick. Clarke started running after him.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Her mother was in the wagon, and from Clarke’s position she guessed that she was preforming CPR.

“Jackson hurry up!” her mother snapped.

Bellamy was standing on the side of the wagon, watching nervously. Clarke hauled herself up on the side beside him to see what was happening. An older man, dark hair streaked with grey, was laying prone on the wagon floor. He was pale and unresponsive.

“He, he just started shaking,” Raven said quietly, noticing Clarke. She was sitting in the corner by Bellamy watching Clarke’s mother try to resuscitate the man, “I think it was a seizure.”

Clarke could already see his lips were going blue.

Jackson leapt into the wagon beside her mother, maneuvering around the unconscious sick bodies.

“I think this is a terrible idea,” he said. He was holding a stun rod that the guards used.

“Just do it!” her mother snapped.

Jackson used the rod on the man. His whole body tensed, back arching off of the wagon for the seconds Jackson electrocuted him, and then dropped back into a heap when Jackson released.

“Again,” her mother ordered.

Lexa hopped up on the far side of the wagon to get a better view. She was watching intently. Clarke couldn’t stop glancing between her and the dying man her mother was trying to save.

The man collapsed back onto the wagon as Jackson stopped the electricity.

“Again,” her mother ordered.

“Abby he’s gone,” Jackson said.

“Again!” her mother snatched the prod out of Jackson’s hands and shocked the man. Clarke recalled the last time this had worked—when they’d had to prove to Lexa that they could cure Reapers by saving Lincoln’s life. They’d only just avoided all-out war.

The man collapsed onto the wagon. Clarke was holding her breath. She hated that there was nothing she could do. Then, softly, the man gasped. His chest was moving. He was breathing!

Everyone let out a relieved sigh.

“ _Sekenomon_ ,” Po whispered, in obvious awe.

Jackson started checking the man for any other signs of distress. Clarke’s mother hopped off of the wagon. She looked weary and pale, with sweat on her forehead. Clarke ran forwards to hug her.

“That was incredible!” she said. Her mom hugged her back, needing the support in the moment.

“Is this what we stopped for?” Lexa asked.

“Yes, but also because we need to rest or else we’ll run everyone into the ground,” Bellamy said.

Lexa shook her head, “This is a bad spot. The bridge is very close. _Azgeda_ will be watching these woods; they will know we are coming. We must prepare for fighting.”

“Then we need to rest,” Bellamy insisted, “I’ll have the guards set up a perimeter.”

“We should not be taking this route,” Lexa muttered, “you stop our travel for one life, and yet you plan on risking many more by walking into a trap.”

“Trap?” Clarke’s mother echoed, “what trap?”

**_BOOM!_ **

An explosion knocked the snow from the trees and sent it flying around them. Clarke tackled her mother, knocking her to the ground and to safety. By the time the snow settled and they could see again, everyone was on their feet and shouting in alarm. There was a column of smoke rising above the trees. Po, Lexa and Bellamy’s guard all had their swords drawn.

“The bridge,” Lexa said.

“Did grounders just blow up a bridge?” Raven demanded, “what the hell?”

“Lexa,” Bellamy snapped, “what the hell was that?”

“That is not a weapon we know,” Lexa replied.

“Was that the trap?” Clarke’s mother asked.

Clarke couldn’t imagine the chaos if they’d been on the bridge. How many of them would have died.

“They must have rigged it to fall,” Clarke wondered out loud. That had to explain the sound, and the dust cloud. Because otherwise…

Raven shook her head, “That was an explosion. Like, a bomb. That wasn’t just knocking out the base of it and collapsing it.”

“We have to go see if it’s standing,” Clarke said.

“I’ll take some scouts,” Bellamy said, “what the hell are grounders doing with bombs.”

“I’m going,” Clarke insisted.

“Then I am too,” Lexa said.

“We’ll make it a party,” Bellamy muttered.

* * *

They wanted to take a small party, on foot, to scout the area. After accessing the distance to the bridge and the ambush they might be walking into, they decided to take the horses. A speedy retreat was their best option for getting out alive.

Unfortunately they couldn’t risk unhitching too many horses from their wagons, in case they needed everyone to run they didn’t want to leave behind any wagons. So the scouting party had four horses in total, and were riding two to a horse.

Given the choice between riding with her or Lexa, Clarke wasn’t relieved that Bellamy picked to go with her, but then Lexa insisted on having a grounder with every Arc member and so Bellamy was stuck with his _other_ fiancé. Good. It took a helping hand to boost Bellamy onto Lexa’s monstrous horse.

It meant Clarke was riding with Indra behind her, uncomfortably pressed together. She was thankful Indra trusted her skills enough with a horse to lead them in and out of danger, and tried to pretend it wasn’t because Indra was better with a bow than she was. The other two Arc guards’ faces had been priceless as they mounted their first horses, but their guns were going to be necessary if there was going to be a fight and the grounders wouldn’t touch them.

The silence of the woods was deafening. Clarke kept her grip on the reigns tight. She wished for more branches or leaves, for some kind of cover. She felt so exposed on the back of her horse, with its hooves crunching loudly in the snow. Surely any grounder warrior would hear them coming.

Lexa had a small bow in her lap as well, and appeared to be guiding her huge horse with her knees. Clarke thought for a moment about trying the same, but knew that her riding skills weren’t that good. She would have felt better with her bow in hand though.

It occurred to her belatedly that she, Bellamy and Lexa shouldn’t be walking into what could be a very dangerous situation together. They were the three leaders of their people—one of them needed to be kept alive at all costs. Two of them, if Clarke was being honest. Lexa had to be kept alive to keep the grounders in line, and either Bellamy or Clarke needed to be around to control her. Clarke wasn’t about to bring that up, though, because Lexa and Bellamy would say she was the one who should return to wait with their people. They were both trained warriors, and Clarke was not, but Clarke was too curious to turn around.

It took almost half an hour at a steady trot before Lexa signaled them to halt. Bellamy slipped off the horse, which was a long way to jump, and lost his footing in the snow and fell into the horse. Clarke let out a slow breath of relief that he didn’t shout in alarm. The horse didn’t seem to notice anything had happened. Lexa landed silently in the snow beside him, arrow drawn and bow pulled taut.

Indra dismounted behind her, and Clarke followed suit. She wasn’t sure what to do with her horses reigns, but the other grounders and Lexa were leaving their horses untethered, so she let the reigns fall loose and hoped the horse would stay.

It felt good to have her own bow in her hands. Clarke wasn’t stealthy by any means, compared to a grounder, but she could pick her way across a forest floor carefully and quietly to get in a better position to shoot or to eavesdrop on unsuspecting people. Over a snow-covered distance she wasn’t sure where to put her feet, and accidentally stepped on a twig that snapped loudly in the crisp, cold air. She froze as eight pairs of eyes all turned back to look at her.

“Step lightly, _Wanheda_ ,” Indra said. Clarke wanted to tell her off. She wasn’t Indra’s second to scold, that was Octavia, but she kept her mouth shut. They paused on the tree line, overlooking where the bridge had been. The rubble was still smoking, dust and snow swirling above the deep ravine. The whole area looked deserted. Clarke didn’t trust her instincts and waited for Lexa or Indra to make the call.

Lexa strode forwards confidently, carefully watching the far side of the ravine. Po and Tara—Bellamy’s bodyguard, Clarke had discovered—were the two grounders Lexa had brought with her. They kept their bows drawn tight, while the Arc guards and Bellamy kept their guns up and trigger fingers ready. 

“ _Azgeda_ ,” Lexa growled into the cold air. Her breath steamed like smoke from her lips.

Clarke moved forwards to stand beside her. They were at the edge of the ravine. There were footprints all along the bank.

“They were here?” Clarke asked. This was too close to their people. Closer than Clarke had imagined them being.

Lexa shook her head, “I can’t tell. The explosion helped mask any fresh prints—see, they’re all covered in snow? We can’t tell how recent they are.”

“This is the only way across?” Bellamy asked.

“This is the safest route. Smaller groups may risk other areas, but this is the only safe crossing for miles,” Lexa said.

“Then it could be anyone’s footprints,” Bellamy said.

Clarke moved away from them, following the track of the footprints. There were lots of them, stepping over one another in various spots. They were different sizes. Finn had tried to teach her how to read tracks—he was, had been, a genius at Earth Skills—but Clarke only had a head for people. Politics and medicine were only useful when there were people around. She didn’t know how to handle the absence of them.

The bridge was made from something almost-stone. There was a word for it that the original grounders used, but Clarke couldn’t remember it at the moment. It was cracked in large chunks, and there were twisted and warped pipes of wire fitted throughout the chunks. The explosion had happed closer to the far side, and so there was a stretch of the bridge on their side that was still standing. The gap was too wide for them to think about trying to repair it, let alone get all of the wagons across. There was no way they could cross here. It was cleared of snow closer to the break, as if someone had come through and swept all the snow towards the banks of the ravine.

There was a log half-covered in dust and snow that seemed out of place on the bridge. It was the only thing, besides bits of rubble, on the otherwise empty bridge, and close enough to the bank that it might have been placed. Clarke stepped out slowly, testing the weight of the bridge. She moved slowly but surely, leaning back in case she needed to run.

The still-standing portion of the bridge seemed sturdy enough, though Clarke didn’t want to stay too long to test it. The log was maybe a foot long, and wrapped in chains. It was much heavier than Clarke expected and she shook most of the snow off of it as she lifted it so she could look at it while standing. There were footsteps pressed into the snow all around it. She dusted the rest of the snow off with a puff of breath. There was a symbol carved into it—a sideways ‘8’. She had no idea what this was, but it felt like it was a clue.

Lexa grabbed her from behind and nearly carried Clarke off the bridge.

“What are you doing?” she asked, and whirled on Po, “why weren’t you watching her?”

“Apologies, _Heda_ ,” Po said quickly, “ _Wanheda_ looked sure of herself.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” Bellamy snapped, “you were completely exposed!”

“What is this?” Clarke held up her find, showing the carved symbol. She wasn’t some child for them to yell at for being reckless. She’d been living alone for months and could take care of herself.

Clarke didn’t miss the look of panic on Lexa’s face. She masked it quickly, it was mostly a quirk of her brows, but the color drained from her dark skin. Indra muttered choice words in Trigedasleng.

Bellamy appeared to notice the reaction too, “Well?” he prompted.

“It’s a taunt,” Lexa finally said, “that is the symbol for the commander.”

“They want you in chains—as a prisoner,” Clarke clarified, looking at the log in her hands, “so they are declaring war.”

“Yes,” Lexa turned away and pretended to scan the trees, “Azgeda and I have been at war for many years. It’s not surprising.” Considering Lexa’s reaction to the log, there had to be something else to it. What was she hiding?

“What about the bridge?” Clarke asked.

“It didn’t fall on its own,” Bellamy confirmed, “there’s scorch marks. You probably would have seen them if you were paying attention.”

“I found evidence to confirm it was Azgeda,” Clarke snapped.

“Oh, as opposed to who?” Bellamy asked, “there’s no one else but other grounders out here.”

“With access to explosives?” Clarke asked, “it could have been someone else from the Arc.”

“No one else survived,” Bellamy reminded Clarke, as if she hadn’t been there to see the stations falling from the sky like the rest of them.

“No thanks to you,” Clarke shot back before she could stop herself. Bellamy’s patronizing was rubbing her the wrong way and he’d been nothing but an asshole to her since they’d gotten engaged. She hadn’t forgotten waking up, stripped in her sleep to her underwear, to him and Lexa mostly-undressed and practically sleeping on top of her, and she wasn’t going to let them take advantage of her like that again.

Bellamy looked humbled by Clarke’s retort for a moment, and she walked away from him before he could think of anything else to say.

Lexa snatched the log out of Clarke’s hands. She stared at it as if she was going to commit it to memory. Before Clarke could say anything, she tossed it off into the snow.

“They are trying to keep us from the mountain, but this is a good sign,” Lexa said.

“How?” Clarke demanded.

“They are not an army—not yet. They would have challenged us instead of hindering us. They are trying to buy time. This means that if we push hard we should be able to make it to Mt Weather before _Azgeda_ arrives in full force,” Lexa explained.

“How are we going to beat them there when we can’t get past the ravine?” Clarke asked, “it’ll take at least another day if we have to go through the mountains.”

“They will expect us to take the mountain path, and I can only assume there is an ambush awaiting us there,” Lexa said. She started walking back towards the horses.

“Then we’re heading into a fight for sure, and we’re going to be weaker and more exposed,” Clarke muttered.

“We should fight,” Tara said, “we have _Wangona_ with us.”

“There is one way,” Lexa offered, “they won’t know it, and it will get us to the mountain tonight.”

“No,” Clarke said quickly, “we already said no to the river. It’s too dangerous.”

“ _Heda_ is right,” Indra said, obviously supporting her leader over logic, “the ice bridge will move our forces quickly.”

“And we must move fast,” Lexa insisted, “we can try further down the river, there may be a shallow place to cross. But it will take us another day to reach the mounain.”

“We can’t be out overnight,” Clarke groaned, trying to figure out a plan, “we don’t even have everything we packed—so much got left behind in the rush.”

“That is not my concern,” Lexa said sternly.

“What’s going on?” Bellamy asked. He and the Arc guards had finished doing a final sweep of the area. The horses were waiting where they’d been left, pawing at the snow to try and find anything to eat. Lexa’s massive black horse lifted its head—it was easily taller than any of the other horses—at the sound of her voice.

“We must take the river,” Lexa insisted.

Bellamy’s eyes widened in surprise, and he said aggressively, “I thought we told you: no river.”

“ _Niron_ ,” Lexa smiled, sending chills down Clarke’s back, “we agreed to use the river as backup, in case the bridge was being watched, don’t you remember?”

Bellamy seemed to remember the group of people around them. Clarke could feel her leather choker tight on her neck.

“How far is the crossing?” Clarke asked.

“The river runs through the ravine,” Lexa explained, “but the land levels out with it a few miles from here. It should take us less than an hour to reach it.”

“It’s the opposite direction of the mountain trail,” Clarke observed.

“Less likely to be guarded,” Lexa insisted.

“It’s dangerous,” Bellamy said.

“Life is dangerous,” Lexa said, “you must take this risk. Trying to spend a night, exposed, with no shelter will hurt us all.”

Clarke looked up at the weak winter sun. The sky was overcast with wispy grey clouds, already making the shadows darker. It would be sunset soon, and then they would be travelling in darkness. And once that happened they’d have to use torches to light the way and that would make them easy targets for any invaders. They were too exposed, out here in the open. They would have been better off staying in Camp Jaha and waiting for tomorrow morning, rather than rushing out in a panic at midday. This was unorganized and poorly planned on their part from the start. Clarke couldn’t imagine her people supporting her or Bellamy if they were marooned in the mountains in winter overnight, on top of having to be fearful of being ambushed as well.

“The river,” Clarke said, “how safe is it?”

“We cannot be sure until we see it,” Lexa said, “but it is well-used in winter. I think it is our best choice.”

“We can’t survive a night out here,” Clarke said, and hoped Bellamy would hear her. He wasn’t even looking at her, “we need to get into Mt Weather tonight,” she took a deep breath, “we have to use the river.”

Bellamy finally looked at her and he looked furious. Clarke couldn’t believe she was agreeing with Lexa either. Part of her was happy for Bellamy’s anger. He couldn’t just treat her like she was a bother and then expect her to support him just to spite Lexa. He was hotheaded and impulsive, and she needed to think for their people. Unfortunately, at this moment, what Lexa thought was best and what was the better option happened to be the same thing. It made Clarke feel ill.

Lexa swung herself onto her horse in one fluid motion, and had to help pull Bellamy up behind her, “Hurry,” she said, turning her horse in a tight circle as the rest of them were mounting their horses, “we must cross the river before the sun sets.”

* * *

The river was wider than Clarke expected. It wasn’t like the crossing point where they could swing across, near the drop ship where Jasper had been struck with a spear during their first day on the ground. She couldn’t see the bottom of the water because of the sheets of ice that had covered it. The water came racing out of the ravine and this crossing point was a bend in the route where the water calmed enough to freeze. Everywhere else it was rushing past. It scared Clarke. She had been on earth for months and still didn’t know how to swim. It was a safe assumption that no one from the Arc could swim, especially not against a current this strong.

She had never seen ice like this in real life. In theory the original grounders used ice for all sorts of recreation and some even lived on the ocean when it was frozen over. Seeing it in person, Clarke didn’t feel as confident in that history. How could you be sure you weren’t going to fall through?

The light was dying. They didn’t have much time to waste just standing around and staring.

“I’ll go,” Lexa said, “follow my exact path,” she instructed.

It was brave, to be the first to go out. Clarke wasn’t sure if she’d run to Lexa’s aid if she did fall through the ice. But if Lexa fell, then the Arc people would be stranded amongst a clan of grounders who would have no qualms about attacking them and taking Mt Weather for themselves. They couldn’t risk Lexa, she was still too important.

Clarke took a deep breath, “No,” she said, “I’ll go.”

Clarke could see Lexa run through the logistics of arguing for or against Clarke’s choice. Clarke knew she had the best idea, so Lexa would agree.

“Go slow,” Lexa instructed, “test your weight before you commit to a step, and be ready to run. If the ice begins to crack, lay flat.”

Clarke nodded, tightening her grip on the reigns. Her horse snorted nervously. There was a gap between the shore and the ice where she could see water. Clarke slid off of her horse.

“Clarke?” her mother asked. She’d made her way to the front. She took one look at Clarke’s face and knew what Clarke was about to do.

“I’ll be fine,” Clarke said before her mom could argue, “besides, we all have to cross eventually.”

“ _Wanheda_ , allow me,” Po said, offering. Probably to try and make up for not stopping her walking onto the broken bridge earlier.

Clarke cut him off with a shake of her head. This was something she could do. Be brave for her people.

She reached out with her foot, planting it on the ice and tested the give. The ice held. Clarke hopped forwards with her other foot and suddenly she was standing on the ice. Over water. It was the first time since being sent to the ground that she was standing on something other than the earth. She hadn’t fallen through yet, and let out an uneasy breath.

“In peace may you leave the shore,” she muttered darkly to herself.

Her next step didn’t kill her, and neither did the next. Her horse was convinced to follow her after a few tugs from Clarke, and the ice creaked dangerously but did not crack. Clarke could barely remember to breathe as she inched across. She was sure she could feel the current of the river under her feet, and it was all too easy to imagine dropping into the cold current and being swept away. The earth version of being floated. When Clarke was halfway across Lexa ordered everyone to file onto the ice.

The grounders seemed much less afraid than Clarke was. They moved slowly, following Clarke’s steps closely, but they moved with a looseness and ease that Clarke didn’t have.  Clarke didn’t pay them much attention, choosing to focus more on where she was putting her feet. The ice, under the snow, seemed to be different colors in places. It was uneven and lumpy as well from chunks of ice hurtling down the river and crashing together to form the sheet of ice that they were crossing now. It made for tricky walking, since Clarke had to pick her footholds carefully.

It was a small hop to the other side and then Clarke had reached the far shore. She let out a long ragged breath, relieved to feel solid earth under her again. Her legs were shaking. She hadn’t realized how scared she really was.

The grounders were nearing the halfway point on the ice, so Clarke drew her bow and started scouting the shore. She hadn’t been attacked, so it was likely that there weren’t any Azgedakru in the area. They didn’t even know about this crossing, if Lexa was right. But it never hurt to be cautious, especially on the ground.

Lexa had brought her horse across when Clarke returned. Clarke observed the people crossing rather than talk to her. She knew barely any of the people with Lexa, which was strange considering Clarke had all but lived with them for nearly a month. Maybe she’d been more focused on saving the kids in Mt Weather than she’d realized. Most of the grounders with Lexa were not what Clarke was expecting either. They were old, much older than she’d expected, or very young. There were young children too that Clarke hadn’t paid attention to, walking close to their mothers’ sides or being carried under a warm fur coat. All of the grounders were armed, and would fight if the call came, but this group was far from being an army of robust warriors.

Lexa probably hadn’t been expecting to be attacked in her own territory, Clarke reasoned. She’d sent all of her stronger warriors ahead to clear out Mt Weather. It made sense, but seemed incredibly out of character for the Commander. To do so, to leave herself so exposed without proper warriors was almost… arrogant. And foolish. Neither were words she would have thought applied to Lexa.

The line of people was widening as they crossed, more confident on the ice, and the wagons were moving with minor difficulty. The horses didn’t have much problem getting footholds on the uneven ice, but the wagon wheels hopped and skidded around on the uneven surface. It seemed to be holding. Clarke was thankful to be across already, but she was worried for the people of the Arc. They were bringing up the rear and would have to cross after everyone else.

Some of the grounder children were tossing rocks onto the ice just downriver from where the procession was moving across the river. They were playing some sort of game, digging up pebbles in the snow and bouncing them on the ice or seeing how far they could throw a stone. It made Clarke nervous. She wanted to stop them—what if they broke the ice and caused everyone to fall in?

“It’s a game,” Lexa explained, “you bounce the stones on water to see how many times it will skip.”

“Bounce a rock?” Clarke furrowed her brow, “on water?”

“They have been playing all summer,” Lexa said, “they have never seen snow.”

That surprised Clarke. All of the children were old enough that they should have seen snow, “They… they aren’t from around here?” As far as Clarke knew the grounders were very fierce about boundaries and clans and who belonged where. Po being an outsider was a huge shock to her, but maybe Lexa was more accepting of outsiders? That could explain why she’d been willing to make an alliance with Clarke rather than kill the Arc people outright, back in the beginning.

Lexa’s soft expression hardened and she turned away from Clarke, “They have not seen snow,” she repeated, “don’t worry about them.”

As if to spite Lexa one of the children had tossed a heavy stone out onto the ice and it broke through.

“It’s thin right there,” Clarke shuddered, “anyone could fall through.”

“Many do,” Lexa agreed, “but you found us a safe path. All will be good.”

Clarke didn’t like that Lexa was trying to comfort her and didn’t reply. Across the ice she could see her mother and Bellamy directing the first of the Arc people onto the Arc. They all looked terrified.

Clarke climbed back onto her horse so she could be seen better and waved at them. Hopefully seeing that one of them—one of their Chancellors, no less—had already made it across would give them all hope. Her mother waved back, and to Clarke’s surprise Kane gave her a wave as well.

Miller and his father were amongst the first from the Arc to step onto the ice. They moved much slower and more awkwardly than the grounders did. They were stiff-limbed and inched along, afraid to lift their feet in case they slipped and fell. The light was getting dimmer and the shadows were growing. If Clarke was right they still had at least two or three hours to get to Mt Weather. They would be travelling in the dark and cold for sure. She didn’t like that one bit.

The wagon with the sickest people was nearing the halfway point on the ice. Wick was walking beside it, chatting with Raven. Clarke watched him purposely slide on the ice, showing off, and then he legitimately tripped. Raven laughed at his sprawl and while she couldn’t hear his response Clarke could hear the happiness in his voice.

It was drowned out by an animal call. It sounded like a scream, rising higher and higher in pitch. There were three—four— five! Five answering calls. Clarke had heard these demons but had never seen one.

“ _Pakstoka_ ,” Lexa whispered, looking around, “they sing for the hunt.”

“ _Pakstoka_ ,” Clarke repeated nervously. She pulled her bow from the sling on her back, “do they hunt people?”

“They eat the weak and the sick,” Lexa said, “but they would not attack a group this large. We are safe, Clarke.”

The people on the ice were moving faster after the calls. The sick wagon had lost traction and Wick and Bellamy were pushing it from behind. Clarke’s mother and Kane were still on the far shore encouraging people to step out onto the ice. That was where Clarke and Bellamy should be, if they were good Chancellors. Clarke still felt guilty about stripping her mother and Kane of their power so suddenly. It was obvious that the two of them were good at leading. They had much more experience.

A chunk of snow fell from the bank and landed on the ice just upriver. Clarke caught the movement but didn’t think anything of it until Raven, who was leaning out of the wagon to talk to Wick, screamed.

It wasn’t snow that had fallen—it was an animal. Huge and shaggy, with spotty fur in patches of light grey, tan and white that faded into the ice and snow around it. Clarke had to squint to make out the shape of the animals. They had pointed ears, bushy tails and long snouts with black noses. And lots of big, yellowed teeth. Four of them were on the ice upstream of the Arc people crossing the river, and running right at them. Bellamy raced to arm his gun, putting himself between the _pakstoka_ and his sister.

Clarke launched her horse forwards. It wasn’t as afraid of the ice as she was, and carried her quickly towards the fight. Horseback was too bouncy, and Clarke couldn’t guide the horse without holding the reigns. It meant she couldn’t use her bow and control her horse at the same time. She pulled it to a stop several yards onto the ice, and took aim.

Her mother screaming stopped Clarke cold. She snapped her head up, losing her target. There were more _pakstoka_ on the far shore. Bellamy fired one shot, clipping one of the animals in the shoulder. It went down but wasn’t dead and got back to its feet. The gunshot rang loudly, echoing up the ravine upstream and through the woods around them. It was as if the entire forest held its breath in anticipation.

“No guns!” Lexa shouted, rushing past Clarke. She wasn’t on her horse.

Clarke watched in horror as Kane bludgeoned a _pakstoka_ that had leapt onto her mother. It jumped away, but there was blood on its teeth. People were screaming, Clarke included. Her mother! She had to get to her!

Lexa kicked Bellamy’s gun out of his hands. She drew her sword, shouting commands. The grounders were calling for the Arc people to run for the safety of the shore. The Arc people were frozen in fear.

In a wave of frothing mouths and large fangs the four _pakstoka_ hit the line of people on the ice. Lexa was knocked down, out of sight. Two of the animals went for the sick wagon, overturning it with their momentum.

On the far shore Clarke saw her mother take Kane’s hand and get to her feet. Jasper was there with them. He looked like he had a weapon to bludgeon the animal with.

“ _WanhedaI_!” Po shouted, coming up beside her.

“My mother!” Clarke pointed. Jasper, Kane and her mother were no match for an animal like this, not without a gun, “save her!”

Raven was screaming. She was being dragged upstream from the sick wagon by a _pakstoka_.

“Raven!” Clarke shouted. She forced her horse forwards, clearing the distance to the wagon in moments. The sick were stunned, laying prone on the ice. Most of them were still unconscious. A _pakstoka_ leapt out of the wagon, surprising Clarke’s horse. It reared in panic and Clarke was thrown from its back. She hit the ice, hard.

Clarke pushed herself to her feet. She’d dropped her bow, she couldn’t see it. Raven was in danger—she didn’t have her gun.

“Hold on!” Wick shouted.

Raven kicked the animal in its mouth and it shook her like a doll. Wick had his axe raised for a swing, rushing blindly for the rescue. Clarke followed suit. She had a knife in her belt. It was barely longer than the _pakstoka_ ’s teeth. It would have to do.

“Get away from her!” Bellamy shouted behind her, and then the sounds of fighting.

The _pakstoka_ barred its teeth at Wick, red with Raven’s blood. Wick didn’t think, didn’t stop. He rushed the animal, shouting in rage. The ice was thin, it was cracking under his feet, Clarke could hear it. She was right behind him. The _pakstoka_ leapt at Wick, Wick swung down to take its head off. He missed. The axe went through the ice.

Clarke remembered what Lexa had said—lay down if the ice is cracking. She could feel it bending under her weight. Raven was dragging herself away from the attack, to where she’d dropped her gun, but was frozen staring in horror as the _pakstoka_ sunk its teeth into Wick’s throat. Clarke threw herself onto her stomach, sliding forwards to grab Raven’s outstretched hand. Wick and the _pakstoka_ hit the ice, hot, thick blood sprayed into Clarke’s face, and the ice broke and she and Raven tumbled into the water below.

It was so cold the air was knocked out of Clarke’s lungs. She was clinging to Raven’s hand, or Raven to hers. Maybe they were frozen together. She’d never been so cold. Her skin burned. Her eyes felt frozen but she couldn’t close them. It was a flurry of bubbles and rushing water. A snap of the _pakstoka’s_ teeth in her face before it spun away with the current.

They hit the bottom of the river hard, Clarke’s arm wrenched underneath her. She didn’t let go of Raven. She’d never let her go. The water around them was so dark. Light shone through spots above them—Clarke could see feet, she realized. Shapes of her people above her as she and Raven were swept underneath them. There were large dark spots—blood, Clarke realized distantly. She couldn’t feel her fingers. Everything felt like it was burning. Was it possible to be too hot and too cold at the same time?

The current tumbled them head over heel, and Clarke caught a glimpse of Raven’s face. She couldn’t feel Raven’s hand in hers anymore and could only hope they were frozen together. Raven’s face was limp. She was unconscious or… or…

No, Clarke decided. She couldn’t let Raven go. Her heels scraped the bottom of the river and she summoned all the strength she had left and pushed. They hit the ice, scraping along it. Clarke dug her toes into cracks between the ice. It was much smoother underneath, there was nothing to grip onto. She had a knife in her hand. It was hard to think. Her chest was hurting—she needed air. But there was no air here. Raven was dead weight, tugging Clarke towards the dark expanse of the river. It would be so easy to let go.

Clarke was so cold she couldn’t feel her knife in her hand. She gripped it with numb fingers that wouldn’t cooperate. The current caught her as she moved to stab the ice and she and Raven tumbled several more feet along the underside of the ice. As Clarke spun she shoved out with all her might and her knife struck the ice. She was spun around, clinging to the handle, as the river tried to take Raven from her. Clarke pulled her knees up, bracing her feet against the ice. The river could have them once Clarke was dead. She tried to push, with her hand and with her feet, but the ice wouldn’t budge. With only one hand to cling to the knife with, Clarke couldn’t get the momentum to chip her way to air. If she wanted to live she’d have to let Raven go.

_In peace may you leave this shore… in love may you find the next…_ Clarke thought to herself. She couldn’t remember the rest of the words. Everything felt very far away. It wasn’t cold anymore.

There was a shadow above her. It was dark. Clarke closed her eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!!!
> 
> Quick note: The wolves are mutant futuristic wolves, so they’re bigger than the average grey wolf. And also very interbred with dogs, which is why they’ve got spotted fur. It’s not mentioned but some of them have floppy ears and curled tails as well. Not that it’s like… a pressing plot point or anything. But these are smart animals that, thanks to the dog genetics, do have a capacity to read people very well that wolves lack. That might be an important plot point (hinthint)
> 
> For that extra heartbreak, when Lexa is talking about emotions and that ‘it’s better to feel nothing at all’? You can bet your bottom dollar that she’s talking about Costia.
> 
> And now I have some bad news. Moving is getting hectic, so I’m putting this fic on a short hiatus. I don’t know when it’ll update again for sure, but if all goes well I should have another chapter out before May ends, but I just don’t have time for editing and writing on top of moving cross-country. Sorry everyone!
> 
> You can check me out on tumblr (name’s the same) where I occasionally post status updates on this fic, or you can PM me if you’re really curious about the fic.
> 
> I love chatting with y’all, and your feedback gives me life. Let me know what you think about the chapter! Who blew up the bridge? What does the chained log mean and why was Lexa so scared of it? Is Raven going to survive? What about Wick? Are they ever going to make it to Mt Weather?


	11. Bellamy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Long time no see! I’ve only just arrived on the other side of the country, now is the hunt for work and exploring surroundings. This fic is still, technically, under hiatus but I’ll try to update inconsistently until I get a proper schedule. I missed you all, and I missed this fic!
> 
> HOO BOY was this chapter ever hard to write, though. I had a lot of points I needed to get through before I could change pov, and so this just kept getting longer and longer. But that’s good news for you! More to enjoy!
> 
> I might try to shorten the chapters again, it makes everything seem like it’s happening faster. Can you believe that with the length of this story, only about 1 full week of time??? My planning for it is that this fic is going to last the entire winter (in-universe) so… we may do some time-jumps haha. But not yet.
> 
> There’s a lot of blood and killing in this chapter, not to mention various injurious that come from fighting to the death. Bellamy is the poster child on ‘how not to handle having a concussion’.
> 
> As for pseudo-science, here’s what’s important about the wolves, since it doesn’t really come up in-fic. The wolves in the story aren’t (timber/gray) wolves like you and I know them. They’re heavily interbred with what remained of dog populations after the nuclear war, so their fur is a wide variety of colors and patterns that you wouldn’t find in true wild animals. Some of them might even have the curly tail or floppy ears of domesticated animals, but since this story is also vaguely a Long Time after nuclear fallout, those traits may have been lost. No one in the fic is going to know this because they’ve never seen a dog or a wolf to know they’re different and how they’ve changed, and also because they don’t really care about those details when the wolves are trying to eat your face.
> 
> And, because they’re post-nuclear war and animals that live in high radiation conditions, they’re also Really Big Mutant Wolves. RBMW lmao. Gotta go with that rule of cool.
> 
> Shoutout to tumblr user Acesophos who helped me translate a lot of the Trigadeslang in this chapter! As always with Trig in these chapters, translations are provided at the end of the chapter. (Ctrl F is your friend if you’re on a monitor!). All of the translations probably aren’t grammatically correct, but they’re based on the info available at trigedasleng (dot) info. There’s a lot of cool stuff there!
> 
> Lastly, a huge thank-you to everyone who’s left a review. You light the fires in my heart and make writing this story so much fun. I love to delight and surprise you, and I’m super emotional when you tell me about it.

Bellamy took aim, exhaled, and fired. The gunshot cracked like thunder, thrilling him from head to toe. His shoulder took the brunt of the recoil. He’d struck the wolf in the shoulder and it tripped, but he hadn’t killed it. He took aim at another one running at him. This time he wouldn’t miss.

Lexa kicked Bellamy’s gun out of his hands, sending it sliding across the ice.

“No guns!” she shouted.

He was going to kill her. Four monsters running at them and she took his only weapon?

She had a sword drawn, and stood between him and the oncoming animals. The biggest one leapt and tackled Lexa, knocking her right into Bellamy. The three of them tumbled across the ice. There was a loud crash nearby. People were screaming. Jaws snapped inches from Bellamy’s ear. Lexa elbowed him in the gut in her struggle to get free. Bellamy tried to shove her and the monster off of himself. Lexa tore free like a bullet. The monster rolled over and was face to face with Bellamy. He stared into its yellow-black eyes and faintly remembered his Earth Skills classes. ‘Wolf’ he thought distinctly, ‘this is a wolf’.

The wolf snapped at Bellamy’s face, and Lexa stabbed it through the throat. It gagged, and bloody spittle splashed Bellamy in the face. It was coughing, dying on Lexa’s sword. Bellamy pushed himself to his feet as Lexa struggled to hold it down with her sword. It was a poor vantage point. The wolf was turning to face Lexa, slowly overpowering her. It was so big. It’s head came up to Bellamy’s chest.

It was struggling to its feet, ready to kill as it was being killed. Bellamy snapped out of his shock and kicked it in the jaw while it was focused on Lexa. It slipped and Lexa drew her sword out to stab it again and again. Bellamy stomped on its head as hard as he could. There was no time to celebrate. The rest of the world came back in startling sound. People were screaming—there were more wolves back on shore with Abby and Kane. They were all running onto the ice. A wagon was down—no, the sick wagon was down! Raven was being dragged away by her bad leg. Wick was running after her. Bellamy could see a wolf circling the overturned sick wagon. The horses were trying to run, and dragging the wagon with them. Unconscious people were spilling out of the wagon across the ice. Bellamy’s heart skipped a beat. Octavia!

“No guns!” Lexa was shouting desperately. Her call was being echoed by other grounders who were charging in to fight with daggers and arrows. The wolves’ fur was so thick that Bellamy wasn’t sure the arrows could do any good.

Bellamy took off towards the wagon. His feet were slipping on the ice and he could barely stay upright. He had no traction and barreled right into the wagon, catching himself on the rough wood. He used it to pull himself around the corner.

The wolf was eating someone. It was facing away from Bellamy and its head jerked as it struggled to tear a bite of meat off of the body. Bellamy covered his mouth before he threw up. Steam rose up from the heat of the blood. The wolf was using one massive paw to pin the body down. Bellamy could see long black hair under the wolf. His knees gave out.

“No, no,” he gasped.

Clarke on horseback charged onto the scene, startling both him and the wolf. The wolf leapt out to challenge her. Her horse reared back and she was thrown. Bellamy couldn’t see where she landed. The horses tied to the wagon were bucking and kicking, practically screaming for all the noise they were making.

Without the wolf blocking his view, Bellamy realized his mistake. Octavia was underneath the man being eaten! She needed him before it was too late. Relief hit him like a punch in the chest. He couldn’t breathe. His sister was still alive.

Bellamy saw the wolf turn back to its kill. It’s face was covered in blood—and it was limping. It was the wolf he’d managed to shoot in the shoulder. He looked around, desperate. There was nothing to use as a weapon. He couldn’t just watch his sister be killed. Drool oozed between the wolfs long fangs. There was nothing for Bellamy to do but move.

“Get away from her!” Bellamy shouted, leaping out of his hiding spot.

The wolf snarled, stepping back. The teeth were big enough to rip out his throat. He had nothing but his fists but he had to protect Octavia. Bellamy stepped forwards, stepping closer to Octavia and the dead man. It smelled terrible. He had to draw the wolf away from Octavia, or get between it and her. The wolf growled, Bellamy growled back. He kept walking forwards.

Bellamy held eye contact with the wolf, using everything in his will to force it back. He stepped carefully over the bodies, over Octavia, to put himself in between them. There was more blood on this side, and his boot slipped.

The stagger was all it took. The wolf saw his weakness and lunged. Bellamy tried to respond but he lost his balance in the blood and tumbled backwards. The wolf hit him at an awkward angle, unable to get its teeth in his throat like it wanted, and bit into the meaty part of Bellamy’s forearm that he brought up to protect himself. They tumbled backwards, onto the half-eaten body. Bellamy knocked his head against the ice so hard he saw stars. The wolf let go of his arm as it tumbled onto its back. His jacket was torn to pieces, and Bellamy could feel his own warm blood running down his arm.

The wolf scrambled to its feet much faster than Bellamy could. His boots were slippery with dead mans blood and his arm ached when he put pressure on it to lift himself up. The wolf spun, digging its claws into the ice to give it traction, and snapped at his face. Bellamy threw himself backwards, onto his ass again. He could feel Octavia under him, the dead man at his back. The wolfs teeth closed a hair away from his nose. Bellamy grabbed the first thing he could feel to swing at the wolf. It happened to be the dead mans arm, which the wolf sunk its teeth into and nearly bit Bellamy’s fingers off.

Sprawled on his back with the wolf on top of him, biting into a dead man’s arm, Bellamy pulled back his knee and kicked out as hard as he could. He caught the wolf in the gunshot wound he’d made minutes ago and its leg buckled. With a yelp it pulled back, giving him a bit of space.

Bellamy had nowhere else to go. He wouldn’t get up in time, there was nothing resembling a weapon around him, and the wolf was ready to kill. If it ate him, hopefully it would leave Octavia alone. There were screams all around him. Everyone was being torn apart by the wolves.

Bellamy rolled, covering Octavia’s head with his body, and braced for the worst. He heard the wolf snarl, and then a shriek. He lifted his head and the wolf was stumbling backwards, an arrow lodged firmly in its eye. It teetered for a moment, and then collapsed on its side.

“Bellamy!” Lincoln shouted, sprinting to him. He’d fired the arrow. Bellamy had never felt so relieved to see Lincoln in his life. He heard a loud _crack_ as if someone had split the sky apart.

Bellamy sat up, feeling incredibly tired and terrified all in the same moment. That sound had to be the ice breaking. Had someone fallen through? They needed to get off the ice immediately.

Lincoln slid to a smooth stop beside them and the two of them pulled Octavia out from under the corpse. She was soaked with blood, both the dead mans and Bellamy’s, but she was breathing.

“We need to get out of here,” Bellamy said. He was breathless and full of adrenaline. His hands were shaking.

Lexa’s shriek made him jump, “Clarke!” The ice breaking—had Clarke fallen through?

The Commander leapt over the upturned wagon in one leap and Bellamy watched her sprint across the ice as if her life depended on it.

“Go,” Lincoln urged him. Bellamy’s head was spinning. He stumbled his way into a run, following Lexa.

Lexa dropped to her knees, sliding a few feet before coming to a stop, and physically _punched_ through the ice _._ Bellamy saw the ice begin to fracture around her. It was too thin! What was she doing?

Something metal caught the light beside Lexa. It was the tip of a knife, sticking up from under the ice. Like someone had stabbed it there, from underneath.

“Oh my god,” Bellamy breathed out. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Lexa tore chunks of the ice away beside the knife tip with her bare hands and before Bellamy could get close enough to help her she plunged her hands into the river water, so deep in that she even put her head and shoulders underwater. Bellamy dropped to his hands and knees and tried to crawl the last length. It was too slippery to keep his balance and the ice was bending under his weight. His heart was hammering in his chest. One wrong move and he’d fall into the river and he couldn’t swim.

Lexa rocked back with her whole body, water pouring off of her long hair and down her back. She’d dropped her winter cloak at some point during the fight.

She dragged someone—Clarke, it _was_ Clarke— out of the water in almost one pull. Clarke looked like a corpse. Her lips were blue and her skin was ash-grey. She was clinging to another hand, emerging from the water.

“Raven!” Bellamy shouted. He reached Lexa’s side. She was digging her heels into the sinking ice, water pooling around her feet, and trying to walk backwards, pulling both women from the river on her own strength. Bellamy grabbed Raven’s arm emerging from the water and heaved hard. He pulled Raven’s upper torso mostly out of the water, reached down into the water—it was so cold—to grab the waistband of her pants to get better leverage. The ice was bending under his feet. Cold water was seeping into his boots. If they didn’t move they were all going to fall in.

Lexa was still pulling, resisting the tug of the river that was still trying to pull Raven—and Clarke, who was _frozen_ to Raven’s grip—back under. Bellamy pulled again. Raven came free of the water. The heel of his left foot broke through the ice and he fell up to his knee through the ice. A hand grabbed the back of his jacket and hauled him backwards.

Kane let go of Bellamy quickly and the two of them push-pulled Raven to safety using the momentum Lexa was creating by pulling Clarke away. They dropped the two girls at Abby’s feet.

“Clarke? Clarke!” Abby shouted, shaking her daughter. She was openly crying, and her hands were bloody. She’d been bitten on her right shoulder and blood had seeped through her sleeve. She leaned down to listen to Clarke’s breathing and checked her pulse.

“She’s alive,” Abby gasped, relieved.

“Raven’s not breathing,” Kane shouted.

Bellamy wasn’t medically trained. He didn’t know what to do to help. Lexa was pacing in tight circles around them, glancing up and away to keep a lookout for any more attacks. The wolves had fled.

Abby almost pounced onto Raven. She ripped Raven’s jacket open with a force Bellamy didn’t know she had.

“Tilt her head back,” she ordered Kane, “CPR—do you remember?” Kane nodded quickly and he started doing compressions on Raven’s chest while Abby pinched her nose and breathed every few moments.

“Bellamy,” Lexa called, “help me.”

Bellamy turned around. Lexa was trying to get Clarke’s soaking clothes off of her.

“She’ll freeze to death,” Lexa explained.

They’d just been through this that very morning. Bellamy couldn’t believe they were saving Clarke from the same fate twice in one day.

“Come on, Raven,” Kane said desperately. He was breathing hard with the exertion of CPR. Bellamy wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his rhythm.

“Bellamy,” Lexa hissed again, snapping him into action.

Clarke regained consciousness as Lexa was trying to manhandle her into a sitting position. She groaned and pushed back at Lexa’s hands.

“Clarke,” Lexa sounded more tender than Bellamy had ever thought she could be, “Clarke, stop fighting or you will die.”

“No,” Clarke whimpered. Her hands were still frozen into claws. Bellamy couldn’t get her to let go of Raven’s hand.

“Raven, wake up!” Abby shouted, “don’t give up on me!”

Po rushed to their aid, holding Lexa’s thick cloak.

“Keep her hands back,” Lexa instructed. Po took Clarke’s arm while Bellamy was still trying to warm up Clarke’s other hand. Lexa had a small knife in her belt and she cut Clarke’s shirt up the front. Bellamy looked away to give Clarke some privacy. The movement of his head made his stomach lurch. Indra was standing further back, closer to where Octavia was. She had her sword drawn and was watching both sides of the river.

At that moment Raven convulsed violently, vomiting onto the ice.

“Roll her!” Abby said, grabbing at Raven’s shoulders, “don’t let her choke!”

Bellamy remembered the position they’d put Octavia into only days ago. He managed to wrench Clarke and Raven’s hands apart so that Raven could be rolled onto her side. She took in deep, wheezing breaths that sounded more like she was being strangled.

“Raven, honey, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” Abby was talking fast. She looked up and her eyes met Bellamy’s. She was looking for an answer.

“Good,” Bellamy said. He meant _Clarke_ was good, but his brain and mouth wouldn’t coordinate. He couldn’t understand why he felt so out of place. Everyone seemed to be moving so much faster than him, his brain couldn’t keep up.

“Wick!” Raven screamed on her next breath, “Wick! Where’s Wick?”

Kane looked downriver, horror in his face.

“He was… the wolf,” Clarke slurred. Lexa had Clarke wrapped in her cloak and was rubbing her arms to get blood flowing. Clarke was still grey with blue lips. Her eyes were half-lidded like she might fall asleep at any second. Her face was covered in bright red scrapes.

Abby moved over to her daughter, “Clarke, baby. Stay awake. I need you to stay awake, okay? You’re hypothermic. I know you’re tired but you can’t go to sleep.”

Clarke nodded mutely.

“She will not die,” Lexa stated, as if it was a fact.

Indra approached slowly, standing beside Po who was hovering over them all. She was staring at Abby in awe. She was glancing between Raven and Clarke and back to Abby.

“ _Sekenomon_ ,” she said after a moment, “it’s true.”

Raven was trying to push herself up onto her knees, and kept coughing up more water. Her normally dark skin was sickly pale, paler than Bellamy had ever seen her.

“Wick!” she called. Her voice was weak and coarse, “Wick!”

She was dripping wet, and shaking so badly her teeth were clicking together. Her leg was bleeding, and there was a cut high on her temple that was bleeding freely now.

“We need blankets,” Abby said quickly, “we have to get them warmed up. Bellamy—check the wagon.”

Bellamy—that was him. She was talking to him and he needed to do something. He pushed himself to his feet and the world lurched underneath him like someone had turned off the gravity. He hit the ice hard and only just avoided hitting his head.

“Are you hurt?” Lexa pulled him upright. She started checking for injuries and noticed the bite on his arm, “this is not enough to fell a warrior—“ she trailed off when she looked into his face.

“ _Sekenomon_ ,” Lexa called, talking to Abby, “his eyes!”

Bellamy knew that they were talking about him, but they all felt so far away. It was like he was watching people put on a performance of his life. He should be more worried about why he couldn’t stand, but standing seemed like such a strange thought he wasn’t sure why he needed to stand at all.

Abby held his eye open with her thumbs, frowning. She had dirt and tear tracks down her face, and blood running from her shoulder to her wrist. She left wet blood on his face.

“How many fingers am I holding up?” she asked.

She was holding up a hand. Bellamy knew that. This should be a simple question. But the thought of trying to focus on her fingers made his head ache like there was a high-pitched noise whiting out all of his other senses. He felt sick.

“You hit your head, didn’t you?” Abby asked.

He hit his head when he was attacked by grounders, like a week ago. And it still hurt—oh yeah, and he’d hit the ice when the wolf attacked him.

“Yeah,” Bellamy managed to say. He hoped that was the right response.

“You’re concussed, well, more concussed,” Abby said, “your pupils are dilated and it looks like your balance is shot. I can’t tell any more without my equipment.”

“Will he live?” Lexa pressed.

Abby looked surprised by Lexa’s aggressiveness, “Yes. Bellamy will have to ride in the wagon, but he’s not in any danger. Clarke and Raven are our priorities right now.”

* * *

Bellamy found himself in the sick wagon—how did it get upright?—with a mostly-naked Clarke shivering in his lap and the two of them wrapped in Lexa’s cloak. Abby was in a similar position with Raven, sitting next to them. The remaining sick people were in the wagon with them, and Lincoln, who was the new guard. The sun was setting, casting bright arrays of light across the sky but thickening the shadows in the forest around them.

“Remember,” Abby told him, “neither of you can fall asleep.”

Clarke was so cold Bellamy didn’t think he could be warm again. Her head kept knocking into his jaw as she shook and he was scared of biting his tongue. He had his arms locked around her waist to keep her from sliding around or falling out of Lexa’s coat because that would be embarrassing.

Raven was crying. She was hyperventilating—both she and Clarke were—but between the sobs and the shivering it didn’t seem like she had room to breathe either.

Lexa and Kane rode up beside the wagon. Lexa looked like she was riding a piece of starless sky, and she towered above them. Kane was riding Clarke’s horse. Were they off the ice? Bellamy couldn’t remember getting into the wagon. Abby said his short-term memory might be a little wonky.

“There was a lot of blood,” Kane said, “I don’t… I don’t know if Wick…”

Abby was stroking Raven’s hair, and Raven was either so delirious she couldn’t hear him or couldn’t hear over her own crying.

“Are you sure?” Abby asked, “should we be sending a search party?”

“The river is very strong,” Lexa said, “if he could swim, there might be a chance. But Clarke said the _pakstoka_ took him by the throat. I think the ice has taken him.”

“Then we should find his body,” Kane insisted, “he saved Raven’s life. He’s one of ours.”

“We can’t risk any more warriors,” Lexa said, “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Will they come back?” Bellamy asked. If the wolves attacked again, he wasn’t sure they were ready.

“The wolves? We killed two, and then the one in the river,” Kane said, “the others were scared off.”

“They should not have attacked such a number of people,” Lincoln said.

“They could smell the sickness. They knew the people here were weak,” Po said, walking beside the wagon. Bellamy hadn’t seen Tara since the wolves attacked. What a useless bodyguard, “they were sick themselves. They are missing fur.” Po gestured to his thick neck to explain where the wolves were missing fur.

“If they were hungry, they had to be desperate,” Abby said.

“We cannot wait,” Lexa said, “we must drive fast now. Night will come soon, and _Azgeda_ knows where we are. The gun gave it away.”

Bellamy knew she was staring at him, blaming him for that, but he couldn’t feel angry. If he’d been allowed to use his gun then maybe Wick wouldn’t have died. Maybe Octavia wouldn’t have been nearly eaten alive.

Lexa rode to the head of the caravan to lead the way.

“Can we trust her?” Kane asked quickly, “with Bellamy and Clarke stuck here?”

Bellamy wanted to object to being talked about like he wasn’t there, but Clarke fidgeted and hit him in the ribs and he pinched her to make her stop.

“They’re engaged,” Abby said incredulously, “how can you possibly ask that?”

Oh yeah, Bellamy should have objected. He didn’t trust himself to lie right now so he stayed quiet, glancing out into the trees.

Kane grimaced, “Sorry, you’re right. I was out of line.”

“Have hope, Marcus,” Abby said, “there’s love in the world. Things are going to change.”

Kane smiled at her but didn’t say anything more.

* * *

It was so dark Bellamy couldn’t see anyone walking behind the wagon or ahead of them. Lexa wasn’t allowing torches. The moon was rising, and that was helping a bit, but the trees stole a lot of the moonlight.

Monty had pressed himself between Bellamy and Abby, draping himself over Raven and he held onto her until he fell asleep again. Raven had stopped loudly crying a while ago, though Bellamy was sure she wouldn’t stop crying for a long time.

Lexa’s cloak was warm, much warmer than Bellamy had thought, but it stank like grounder and animal skin. Abby kept telling Clarke to keep her head covered as well, which made her grumble and irritable. Bellamy’s ears and nose were frozen, and his feet were numb from Clarke sitting in his lap.

He couldn’t believe he’d seen Clarke dressed down twice now. If she had been anyone else— someone a little less Clarke—he’d have slept with them by now. Earth was a cruel place by taunting him with someone who wanted nothing to do with him _twice_. Besides, even though he’d never considered sleeping with Clarke didn’t mean he wouldn’t if the opportunity came up, except that Clarke had made it clear that wasn’t going to happen. It had been a while since he’d last had sex with anyone, since he’d been busy keeping Camp Jaha running and now the entire mess with Lexa and Octavia being sick, which was probably why he was thinking about it at the worst possible moment. He’d have to change that as soon as possible.

The realization caught Bellamy off-guard. He was engaged. He _couldn’t_ have sex with whoever he wanted anymore. He was stuck with Clarke, which sucked. Or there was Lexa, who was worse. He was getting married to people who did nothing but ruin his life, and on top of that there wouldn’t be any sex. Marriage was binding and for life.

He sank down in defeat. Clarke’s blonde head poked out of the fur cloak.

“Stop moving,” she grumbled, “keep your hands still.”

She’d regained her superiority complex, it seemed. Clarke made the rules and Bellamy was literally just there for her to sit on and keep her warm.

“Tell me, Princess,” Bellamy asked, and adjusted so she had to sit between his legs and he could get some relief from her weight, “has Lexa _always_ been into you? Or is this a new thing?”

“What?” Clarke hissed. She shifted to face him and her hip dug painfully into his groin. Bellamy grabbed her by the waist to move her and she elbowed him in the ribs.

“Don’t touch me,” Clarke growled. Bellamy grabbed her arms so that she wouldn’t hit him again. Her back was pressed to his chest this way, and he hooked his chin over her shoulder to talk in her ear without anyone else being able to hear him.

“I’m not doing anything, calm down,” he whispered, “I was just wondering. Lexa was really concerned about you.”

“It’s none of your damn business,” Clarke snapped. She turned her head to face him so that they were nearly nose to nose.

“There’s no need to bite my head off. I’ve saved your life twice today,” Bellamy muttered.

“Well go do something useful and keep an eye on Lexa,” Clarke said, “the longer we leave her alone the more time she has to do something.”

Unfortunately, Clarke had a point.

“Fine. At least it’ll get me away from you,” Bellamy said.

Kane and Abby were passing the time with quiet chatter. It was a lot colder now. Bellamy’s feet were sticking out from under Lexa’s cloak and his toes had gone numb. Clarke was still shivering against him but nowhere as badly as she’d been before. She’d be fine without him.

Kane kept shifting in the saddle while he talked, grimacing, until Abby laughed at him.

“Horses aren’t very comfortable,” Kane complained, “I think I’d rather walk.”

“I’ll trade,” Bellamy offered, “I want to get up front anyways. You know, to be with Lexa.”

“How are you feeling?” Abby asked.

“A little sick,” Bellamy admitted, “but present. I’m, uh, at full speed again.” In his defense it was hard to tell if he was nauseous or just hungry at this point. They’d been travelling all day, and including the scouting mission, he hadn’t stopped to eat once.

“I’m okay too,” Clarke said, “a little chilly and I want some clothes, but I’ll survive.”

Bellamy wanted to shake her. Did she have to say it like that? To her mother? Now it seemed like he was ditching her in favor of Lexa even though this was her plan in the first place.

“If you’re sure,” Abby said slowly, “Clarke, hypothermia is serious.”

“She’s warm,” Bellamy said, “not even shivering anymore.”

“If that’s what you want,” Kane said. Bellamy untangled himself from Clarke and the cloak and Lincoln helped him step off the back of the wagon. Kane pulled the horse to the side to dismount and took a moment to stretch out his legs.

“Apparently in Old Earth,” Kane said, “people would ride horses for days. I thought I was going to die if I had to ride for a few more minutes.”

Bellamy grimaced, “Is it that bad?”

“When it’s bumpy, try to stand up,” Kane advised with a laugh.

Clarke’s horse wasn’t as large as Lexa’s—it blew Bellamy’s mind that animals could get that big—but it was still bigger than anything he was comfortable with. He was able to get a foot in the stirrup and swing himself into the saddle on his own. Horses felt weird, they were nothing like sitting in a seat. They spread your legs almost uncomfortably wide, and they didn’t listen to your every command. There was an actual brain, a living creature, that was taking direction from the reigns and could decide to ignore him at any moment. They made Bellamy very uneasy.

The horse was content to walk with the wagon, and Bellamy had some trouble convincing it to speed up. After that he tried to focus on steering it so it didn’t run anyone over. More than a few people had to jump out of his way.

He encountered Tara walking with a small child in her arms.

“So you are alive,” Bellamy commented.

“Mangy _pakstoka_ can’t kill me,” Tara shrugged.

“So where were you? I almost died,” Bellamy said.

Tara furrowed her brow in confusion, “You are _Wangona_. You don’t need protection in battle,” she hefted the sleeping child in her arms, “I had to protect my sister.”

A sister? That surprised Bellamy. He’d assumed the child was hers. There was a huge age difference, unless Tara was much younger than she appeared.

“You have a sister?” Bellamy said.

Tara looked down at her sleeping sister and back at Bellamy, as if she couldn’t believe he was just stating the obvious.

“What about your parents?” he asked, glancing around.

Tara frowned, “My _nomon_ and I were in the mountain. Then my sister joined us. My _nomon_ did not survive _Maun-de_.”

The little girl couldn’t be more than four. Where the mountain men so brutal that they’d bleed out a child? Bellamy was sickened, but not entirely surprised. They’d been willing to torture his own people to death to save themselves. Apparently there was no end to how disgusting they were.

“ _Heda_ rides ahead,” Tara prompted.

Bellamy took the dismissal and urged his horse to speed up.

* * *

If Lexa was surprised to see him up and riding she didn’t show it. Didn’t even look happy.

“Where are we?” Bellamy asked. It was nearly impossible to see up ahead since it was so dark. The mountains had all faded into the sky and night was closing in on them.

“We are a little over an hour from Mt Weather,” Lexa confirmed, “but I fear this will be the hardest part of our journey yet.”

“Any more rivers to cross?” Bellamy asked.

Lexa glanced over at him—it was weird having to look up to see her on her horse—and Bellamy could tell she was angry, even if she wasn’t showing it, “No. But _Azgeda_ will be moving to intercept us. They have realized we did not take the mountain path, and the gunfire gave away our location. In the dark it is safest to move slowly, but we will have to hurry to reach the mountain before their forces hit us.”

“I’m not apologizing for it,” Bellamy said, “the gun. You shouldn’t have knocked it out of my hands. I could have killed all of those wolves before they hurt anyone.”

“You are useless without one,” Lexa said, “I am… I was not expecting that.”

“What did you think? I’m not a grounder,” Bellamy said.

“But you are _Wangona_ ,” Lexa said.

“What does that even mean?” Bellamy asked.

“The Warrior of Death,” Lexa said, and she looked surprised that apparently no one had informed Bellamy about that, “you are the great warrior that infiltrated _Moun-de_. My people speak highly of you—they said you killed a man with ferocity and strength, even after the mountain men had poisoned you and taken your blood.”

Bellamy’s stomach lurched. He’d tried to avoid thinking about Lovejoy’s death. It brought up memories of Lovejoy’s son smiling at him.

“It was kill or be killed,” Bellamy said, “I took him by surprise.”

“But for a warrior to be so reliant on one weapon,” Lexa huffed, “we are lucky no one else has noticed. You must begin a warriors training immediately.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Bellamy said, “you don’t give me orders.”

“My people will not respect a leader who cannot defend himself,” Lexa insisted, “I will make sure you have a good teacher. You have a warriors heart, Bellamy, but you cannot be reliant on your guns. There will be many times when you will not have one.”

“Fine,” Bellamy muttered. More training couldn’t be bad, he figured. Octavia would be over the moon. She’d tried to get him to train with her several times but always got mad that he wouldn’t hit her hard. That, and, the last time he’d tried wrestling gently with her she’d bitten him and they hadn’t talked to each other for two days.

The horse veered off suddenly, deciding to put its head down and try to find a snack. Bellamy had to lean back, standing up in the stirrups, to wrench its head back up and get it back on the trail.

“I can see why the original grounders started using cars,” Bellamy grumbled.

“You have no control,” Lexa observed. She was showing off, not even holding the reigns to her horse and guiding it with her knees.

“And how do I get some?” Bellamy snapped. He wasn’t in the mood for Lexa telling him all the things he wasn’t good at.

“Trust,” Lexa said simply, “and guidance. You hold the reigns too firmly, but let them get too loose and the horse will do what it wishes.”

Bellamy rolled his eyes, “That’s very helpful.”

“Have you ever held a sword?” Lexa asked.

Bellamy shrugged. They were back to his lack of training apparently, “I guess? Like I said, I’m better with a gun.”

“Here,” Lexa said, “get used to the weight.”

She struggled to draw her sword, hissing in pain as she did so. Her hand was swollen, knuckles split and while her skin was naturally quite dark, Bellamy could guess that she was bruised up as well.

He was about to ask when she hurt herself until he remembered her punching her way through the sheet of ice to save Clarke.

“Can you even hold it?” Bellamy asked.

Lexa finally managed to unsheathe the sword, and held it out for Bellamy to take.

“I can wield with both hands,” she explained, “but drawing it is difficult right now.”

“You should get Abby to look at it,” Bellamy said. Not that he cared if she did or not, but that was something a fiancé would say.

“Do you know the way to _Moun-de_?” Lexa asked, “no, I think not. I must guide us so we do not get lost. Hopefully there will be no need to fight.”

The sword was longer and heavier than Bellamy expected. He swung it down between the horses as a test. Lexa leaned away nervously.

“Please do not cut someone,” she said.

“Do you fight from horseback with this?” Bellamy asked.

“Sometimes,” Lexa said, “it can be helpful to have an angle of attack on your opponent, but they are more nimble on the ground. It takes great skill to strike true while riding.”

Bellamy tried not to think about how easy it would be to stick Lexa in the ribs right now. With her hand injured she was less likely to be able to defend herself. While a sword wasn’t quite as exciting and powerful as a gun in his hands, Bellamy could see the appeal of them. There was a savage beauty in fighting with them that he could appreciate. Not that they’d be any match for a gun.

He switched to his left hand, immediately feeling more awkward and uncoordinated, but now he could swing the sword towards the trees where he wouldn’t hit anyone.

“You swing with no form,” Lexa said.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Bellamy shrugged, “I told you, I’m better with guns.”

Bellamy took a few swings at branches as they passed. Mostly he just knocked snow into his face, but he started getting a feel for the weight of the sword and how to hold it steady when he hit wood.

“How is Clarke?” Lexa asked after a while.

“Obnoxious,” Bellamy said, “she’ll be fine.”

“She almost died,” Lexa said quietly, “she might have saved herself had she let Raven drown, but instead she chose to die with her friend.”

“That’s what friends do,” Bellamy said, “besides, you saved her.”

“Had the ice been any thicker I do not think I could have,” Lexa said. She flexed her injured hand and hissed in pain, “both you and Clarke were in danger today.”

“That’s life,” Bellamy shrugged. Was he mistaken or did Lexa actually sound concerned for his wellbeing?

“You and Clarke both must take up training, to learn to defend yourselves. And you must practice caution,” Lexa informed him, “for both of your sakes.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” Bellamy insisted, “and I don’t need a grounder bodyguard breathing down my neck all the time.” Not that Tara did that. She seemed happy to let him deal with any threat on his own rather than step in and help.

“But you are not just you anymore,” Lexa said, “you are a leader, and part of a coalition that has never been seen before. Without us the alliance falls apart. You cannot take your life into your own hands, you must think of your people.”

Bellamy wasn’t sure if he should be reading a threat into Lexa’s words.

“You charge into battle all the time,” he said.

“I,” Lexa said proudly, and maybe it was the concussion talking but Bellamy thought she almost sounded playful, “am a trained warrior. One day you might be one too.”

Bellamy manhandled the sword to try and hand it back to her. He didn’t respond to Lexa’s taunt. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her trying to be friendly with him. Just because they were allies didn’t mean they had to like each other. Being nice to him right now wasn’t going to make him forget how she’d left them all to die, or that she’d strong-armed him and Clarke into this marriage of hell.

Lights caught his attention.

“What’s that?” Bellamy asked. He could barely see anything over Lexa’s horse and stood up in the stirrups. Lexa snapped her head around. There were pinpricks of lights moving in the trees. Too far away to count, but if Bellamy squinted he thought he could see the people holding the torches and running for them.

“ _Azgeda_ ,” Lexa whispered, and she looked ahead down whatever path she was leading them on, “we’re too far still. They will cut us off.”

“How far is Mt Weather? You said an hour away, but that was a while ago,” Bellamy said, “if we run, can we make it?”

“Running in the dark is dangerous. The wagons may slip or the horses could fall. Our people have been walking all day, they will not have the energy to run that far either,” Lexa hissed, barring her teeth in frustration.

“We have our guns, that has to count for something,” Bellamy said, “we set up defenses here.”

“And get surrounded?” Lexa snapped, “no, we must make it to _Maun-de_. We are dead if we do not.”

There were more torches now. They were still far away—far enough that they were out of range of arrows or bullets, but it was clear that they were coming in this direction. It didn’t take a genius to figure out how they knew to look this way. Bellamy had shot the gun that had marked their location, and he hadn’t even made a kill.

“ _Heda_!” Indra shouted, running up to their horses.

“I see them,” Lexa said.

“We do not have the forces to fight _Azgeda_ ,” Indra stressed.

“We have guns,” Bellamy said, “we can scare them off.”

“They will slaughter our people if they reach us,” Lexa said, “we have no cover and too many sick. We cannot afford to fight here.” A shout went up amongst the crowd behind them. Others were noticing the torches.

“We have to go out and fight them?” Bellamy interpreted, “you mean a distraction?”

Lexa seemed to form an idea as Bellamy spoke, “Yes. Let them think they have discovered us, while our people run for _Maun-de_.”

“We have warriors in the mountain, they will be fresh and ready to fight,” Indra said.

“We can’t spare anyone to ride to get them,” Lexa said, “I must meet _Azgeda_ in battle.”

“ _Heda_ you can’t,” Indra said. Her tone surprised Bellamy. It sounded like she was actually worried for Lexa’s life—and not in the general ‘battles are dangerous’ but as if this particular battle was especially risky for Lexa.

Then he remembered Lexa’s hand.

“You can barely draw your sword,” Bellamy said, “your hand, it’s too damaged. You can’t even shoot an arrow. You’re a better rider than I am, and your warriors will respond to you best. You have to ride ahead.”

The idea of sending Lexa, alone, into Mt Weather while he rode to fight an army terrified Bellamy. She could lock them out easily and they would all die.

“No,” Lexa snapped, “I can still fight. They must see _Heda_ in battle.”

“I can’t let you die!” Bellamy shouted, and at least that was true, “you’re too important. We’ll hold them off while the wagons get through, and you bring your warriors back to hit them from behind. Our guns will keep them at a distance for now.”

“You ride to _Maun-de_ ,” Lexa insisted, “warriors are needed here.”

“No, we need someone who can fight without a gun in case you run into anyone. And we need someone fast—you know the way. You have to go _now_ ,” Bellamy insisted.

“ _Wangona_ may be right,” Indra said quietly, “we must rely on _gona kom Skaikru_. For the children.”

The children? There were more than just Tara’s sister? At the back of the caravan Bellamy hadn’t seen any grounder children. He hadn’t really been paying any attention on his ride to the front either. His stomach churned.

“Would Azgeda kill children?” he asked, fearing the answer.

“Anyone affiliated with me,” Lexa said calmly. She breathed out heavily and turned to Indra, “stay strong. Wait for my return,” and then she turned back to him, “Bellamy, be safe. Don’t be reckless. And,” she paused a moment, “kill as many as you can.”

She took her sword back from him and didn’t bother to sheathe it. One shouted command and her horse thundered into the darkness.

“We need someone to keep guiding the caravan,” Bellamy said, “who knows these woods?”

“All _Trikru_ ,” Indra replied, “we know our home.”

“Make sure someone’s leading, and then gather whatever fighters you have,” Bellamy said, “and then meet me.”

“Yes, _Wangona_ ,” Indra said. He’d never seen her defer to someone who wasn’t Lexa and it caught him off guard a moment. The torches were getting closer. Bellamy turned his horse and raced back down the line.

“ _Skaikru_!” he shouted before he knew what he was saying. His people didn’t have a name for themselves, at least one that was helpful to shout into the dark, “guards! Guns at the ready, with me!”

Adrenaline was coursing through Bellamy’s veins. His heart was hammering with fear. There was an answering shout from the guards, a rush of pre-battle energy. Bellamy rode right for the sick wagon.

“What’s going on?” Abby asked. She had Raven and Clarke tucked under each arm. They both still looked pale and sickly. Kane was beside them with Monty sleeping on his shoulder and two little girls that weren’t sick but likely exhausted from walking, in his lap.

“Is it _Azgeda_?” Lincoln asked.

“Yeah,” Bellamy confirmed, “I’m taking a force out to meet them and draw them away from the wagons. You’ll be continuing to Mt Weather and you can’t stop for anything.”

“Where’s Lexa?” Clarke asked.

“She’s rushing to Mt Weather to get her warriors there,” Bellamy said, “I told her to go.”

“You _what_?” Clarke shouted. Her eyes widened as she realized her outburst. Bellamy was sure she’d been about to read off a list of incredibly nasty insults at him.

“She’s the fastest rider we have,” Bellamy said, “it was the best call.”

“I hope you’re right,” Clarke said darkly.

“Kane, I need you with me,” Bellamy said, “Lincoln will you stay?”

Lincoln pulled an arrow from his small quill, “I will protect them.”

Bellamy swallowed nervously. Kane was disengaging himself from a sleepy Monty. The little girls started protesting about being cold and Monty and Clarke tucked them in between them.

“And Octavia?” Bellamy questioned.

Abby shook her head, “she’s still quiet. No movement.”

“She will be safe in the mountain,” Lincoln insisted.

Bellamy let out a slow breath. He was going into battle. It could go wrong in so many ways. He looked up to meet Lincoln’s eyes, “Take care of her,” he said. _In case I don’t make it_ , went unsaid, but Lincoln nodded his agreement.

The rest of the guard rushed to join him and Kane as the caravan continued into the dark.

“We don’t know how many there are,” Bellamy explained quickly, “but we need to hit them away from here, to buy everyone else time to make it into the mountain. Lexa is riding ahead to get reinforcements, but it’s up to us to hold them off.”

“As soon as they put out those torches we won’t know where they are,” Kane said.

“So conserve your bullets. Our goal is to be a deterrent until Lexa arrives, then we run like hell,” Bellamy admitted, “but until then, we hold our ground.”

Indra joined them. She had nearly a dozen warriors. Way too few. What had happened to the huge army that Lexa commanded? Had that only been for show? Some of the warriors with Indra looked too small to be holding weapons or going into battle. Bellamy swallowed his fear.

“We should meet them in a line,” Indra said, “let them think there are more of us than them. If you use your _faygon_ it may make them nervous.”

Bellamy nodded, “I don’t know how to fight in the open like this,” he admitted.

Indra nodded sagely, as if she’d expected it, “Tell your troops to follow my lead then.”

Bellamy glanced around and, while nervous, every single guard nodded respectfully.

“Ambush will be our friend,” Indra said, “ _Skaikru_ will form groups, a _Trikru_ guide to each. Lead them silently—as silent as a _splita_ can be in our woods,” all the grounders laughed. Bellamy didn’t know the word but figured it was a harmless insult.

“ _Wangona,_ ” Indra said, “with me. I will protect you for _Heda_.”

* * *

“Do I really need protecting?” Bellamy whispered, “I thought your people valued warriors who could take care of themselves.” He was following in Indra’s footsteps, which was nearly impossible in the darkness. Miller and Huxley were with him. All three of them had guns, and Huxley kept slipping on exposed roots and rocks in the snow.

“We do,” Indra replied coyly, “once you are a warrior you will not need a _nonomon_.”

“I can handle myself,” Bellamy muttered.

Indra hummed, apparently amused even as they were walking towards a nearly unwinnable fight, “I saw you swinging the sword,” she glanced back over her shoulder and he could see the glint of moonlight in her eyes, “ _Trikru_ are born with more skill than you showed.”

He’d thought it was dark enough that no one else would see that. When they’d first landed on earth, back at the dropship, a rumor had gone around that grounders could see in the dark. Sometimes Bellamy wondered if that were true.

“Is _Azgeda_ as bad as everyone says?” Bellamy asked.

Indra huffed, “They dedicate their lives to warfare. If you cannot battle, then you are exiled, or killed. They are nowhere near as tolerant or gentle as _Trikru_.”

Tolerant and gentle were the last things Bellamy would describe any of the grounders he’d met. For Indra to think herself nice in comparison to _Azgeda_?

“We’re screwed,” Bellamy said to himself.

The _Azgeda_ warriors had extinguished their torches, hence the need for sneaking. There was real worry that the two forces could literally run into one another, and whoever drew their weapon first would start a fight. Bellamy hoped that guns were going to be a good deterrent.

Indra stopped them after nearly twenty minutes of creeping through the snow. Bellamy couldn’t see any of the other groups, but Indra made a _hoo-hoo_ noise that genuinely sounded like an owl. After a few minutes they heard responding _hoo-hoo_ ’s that meant the other groups were in position.

“ _Azgeda_! You are unwelcome!” Indra roared.

“ _Chon chich op Indra? Em otaim gada badannes in gon Heda, ba Heda ste kwelen._ ”

Bellamy looked over at Indra. He didn’t know what they were saying.

“Ice Queen?” he mouthed.

Indra shook her head, “If she were here, we would know. Now _set daun_ , wait for my signal,” Indra hissed, waving to the ground. Bellamy, Miller and Huxley figured out what that meant pretty quickly and crouched low. Indra jumped up and scaled the tree above their heads with little effort or sound.

“Holy shit,” Miller breathed, “no wonder they kept hitting us from above.”

“ _Azgeda_ _led kongeda-de op!!” Indra shouted above them, “_ _Yo don veid osir geda kom Trigedakru op! Yon kodon laik wamplei!”_

The familiar sound of arrows. _Fwip fwip_. Bellamy waited to hear Indra fall, but it never came.

“ _Fousen_ _Trikru_ _laik kom osir! Noumou natrona laik hir!”_

Indra, in a different tree. When had she had the time to move? Why hadn’t any of them heard her leap around? “ _Osir_ _laik fousen badannes gona gon Heda! Du na put daun op kos natrona_!”

_Fwip fwip_.

“ _Du_ _hukop kom Kwelheda! Yu na gon op osir kom taim kwelness kom Kwelheda ste kot op kom heda keryon_ ”

Bellamy had no idea what they were talking about, but he was getting an idea where the enemy was. He knew _heda_ , at least. They were talking about Lexa. And their talking was pointing out their location to him.

 Indra was in a tree to their right now. How fast could she move up there? “If you want to kill _Heda_ you will have to fight death itself! _Belomi_!”

Bellamy still couldn’t see into the dark, but he had a pretty good idea about the spots the voices were coming from. He leapt from his crouch, took aim and fired into the dark. The gunshots were so loud, echoing down the line of armed Arc guardsmen they had spread out, that the sound of them might have toppled trees. The forest went deathly still, like it was holding its breath. Bellamy had thought it was silent before, but he’d never heard silence quite like this. For a moment he might have almost believed that they’d killed the Azgeda warriors.

“ _Wanheda en Wangona glong op Kwelheda_ _!_ ”

Indra, again, “ _Wangona_!”

Bellamy fired another round into the darkness. The recoil on the gun felt brutal in the cold night. His fingers were stiff and felt slow to movement. How long had it been since Lexa went for reinforcements? Would she come back? Had the caravan made it to Mt Weather? Sometimes Bellamy longed for the simplicity of being a janitor. Peoples’ lives didn’t depend on his decisions, didn’t hinge on him being able to outthink the enemy.

“The true _Heda_ will make peace _kom_ _Skaikru_ if they do not enter _Maun-de_!” a man’s voice, in heavy, accented English. _Maun-de_ , Bellamy knew that word. That’s what Lexa called Mt Weather.

“ _Azgeda_ knows no peace!” Indra shouted back, in English, “ _Azplona_ will kill anyone who does not submit!”

“ _Kof_ _osir op Kwelheda en fousen Heda hofli teik oso kik raun_ ,” a woman—Bellamy wasn’t sure if it was the same from before—shouted. So they were back to Trigedasleng again.

The Ice Nation wanted to keep the Arc people out of Mt Weather. There was justification there, Bellamy figured, but when their decision was to attack first and make peace later, he was less inclined to listen to them. Why were they bothering to talk anyways? If this really was a small scouting party of Ice Nation warriors they stood no chance at actually winning any fight. At worse all they should be able to do would be to delay the caravan until their backup arrived.

Lexa had spoken about multiple routes that could be taken to get to Mt Weather. They were taking a route meant for people with wagons and to be gentle on those walking. But there would be paths that smaller groups could use, ones who weren’t limited by weaker people travelling with him.

What had Indra said? That all of _Trikru_ knew their territory. And the _Azgeda_ scouts had said something about _Trikru_.

Further—Bellamy felt his stomach turning in knots—why had they lit torches? If they were trying to move undetected why would they light torches that could be seen for miles? Unless they wanted to be seen. They might already know that Lexa had warriors in Mt Weather, and if Bellamy and his people were with her and they had guns…

Grounders, one-on-one, were no match for bullets. They knew this. They’d been dealing with Mt Weather for years. They weren’t trying to attack the caravan or delay them to wait for reinforcements.

This was a trap.

“Shit,” Bellamy hissed, “shit, shit, shit!”

The _Azgeda_ reinforcements were already here. They’d known that Lexa had taken them to the river—Bellamy had advertised their position so clearly with a single gunshot. As a fighting unit they’d moved faster than the caravan, and they’d known Lexa would try to meet an armed force head-on, leaving the caravan open for attack and undefended.

“Bellamy, what are you—” Miller started, but then was cut off by howling. And screaming.

“The wolves!” Huxley shouted.

_Fwip fwip_.

Bellamy dove for the ground as the scouts locked on their location. Huxley wasn’t so lucky. The arrows shot just past Miller’s face and hit Huxley. He dropped with a shout.

Bellamy rolled behind a tree as Miller and Huxley moved for cover in the opposite direction.

“It’s a trap! They’re attacking the others!” he shouted.

Indra landed on the ground beside him and Bellamy nearly leapt out of his skin.

“We have to get out of here,” Bellamy said.

“Run,” Indra hissed, “not in straight lines. Between the trees.”

“But the scouts,” Bellamy gestured behind the trees.

“Are just scouts. The _real_ enemy is behind us!” Indra said, “I will buy you time. Hurry!”

“Huxley’s hurt!” Miller shouted.

“Can he shoot?” Bellamy demanded.

“I can’t run,” Huxley whimpered, “but I’ll kill any grounder that comes my way.”

“With me, then,” Indra said gravely.

The wolves weren’t nearby, they were attacking the caravan. The forest was alive with snarling and screaming. There were shouts and gunfire from the few guards that had stayed behind.

“Fall back!” Bellamy ordered, “shoot to kill!”

* * *

Octavia was there. In the sick wagon. The wolves had come for her before, and now Bellamy wasn’t there to protect her. He ran for her life, slipping and skidding in the snow as he weaved through the trees. Arrows flew over his head, but he didn’t slow down.

It had taken them a long time to get into position to meet the scouts, and it felt like it took longer to run back to the caravan. Bellamy burst from the trees into the middle of the battle. It looked like the groups—Lexa’s and his—had fallen back on one another. Grounders and Arc people were standing together to fight off _Azgeda_ warriors and the wolves that were running through the crowd and dragging unarmed people to the ground with sharp teeth. There weren’t enough _Azgeda_ warriors to constitute an army, but they were all armed and powerful warriors, while so many of the people travelling with him were sick, elderly or otherwise unable to fight.

Bellamy slid to a stop, and took aim before he could catch his breath.

He was able to clip two archers on the edge of the fight, taking one down with a shot to the chest and the other he hit in the arm. The rest of the warriors were too close to his people. He couldn’t get a clear shot.

The gunfire alerted the _Azgeda_ warriors to his presence and several near him turned to face him. Bellamy summoned all the courage he could muster and raised his gun. Three of them ran at him.

One stumbled and hit the ground—the one Bellamy had shot in the arm. There was an arrow in his back! Clarke was standing up in the sick wagon, wrapped in Lexa’s cloak and looking like she was some sort of animal, firing arrows at the attacking warriors around her. Bellamy tried to look for Lincoln, or even Octavia amongst those in the wagon, but then the grounders were on him.

He parried the swing of a sword with his gun, and twisted to avoid the dagger slash aimed at his gut. This close to his people Bellamy couldn’t risk any stray bullets. He tried to get his footing again, from dodging the dagger, but he slipped in the snow. He hit the ground hard. The grounder with the sword reared back for another swing. Facing straight up, Bellamy lifted his gun and shot the man in the throat. Blood sprayed out, steaming in the snow.

The second grounder, the one with the dagger, kicked Bellamy’s gun out of his hand. He dropped to his knees over Bellamy’s waist, raising his dagger for a strike. Bellamy had nothing but his old guard training to fall back on, and punched up, hand open, to strike the grounder in the nose with the heel of his palm. Cartilage cracked and the grounder reared back in pain, giving Bellamy enough time to grab the grounders arm holding the dagger, draw it close, and bite hard into his wrist. Blood, sickeningly hot, poured into Bellamy’s mouth and down his chin and he didn’t dare let go until he’d done some serious damage. A grounder with two working hands was going to have an advantage over Bellamy, especially since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a full meal.

The dagger dropped, hitting the snow and Bellamy lost track of it when the grounder punched him in the temple. His stomach lurched dangerously and only then did he remember he was concussed and probably shouldn’t be taking hits to the head. The grounder rolled off of him, Bellamy rolled the other way and scrambled to his feet, grabbing cold metal as he stood up. He made eye contact with the grounder and spat out the chunk of flesh in his mouth.

The weapon Bellamy had grabbed wasn’t his gun after all, but the sword from the other grounder he’d just killed. The grounder facing him hissed, barring his teeth in that feral grounder way, and drew his own sword with his good hand. Bellamy had held a sword a total of two times in his life: once when Octavia made him hold hers so she could crawl into a narrow space that the rabbit they were hunting had run into, and the other time being just a little while earlier with Lexa’s sword. It was an understatement to say that Bellamy had absolutely no idea what he was doing with a sword.

He didn’t have time to think. The grounder rushed him with a battle cry, swinging the sword down. Bellamy parried with the blade, like he’d done before with his gun, and narrowly avoided cutting his own fingers off. He made a desperate stab at the grounder but missed.

The snow was hard to move in—it was wet and icy and hid the uneven terrain underneath. Bellamy had to keep half a mind on not slipping again, which was difficult when he was actively trying to not get killed. The darkness of night was overwhelming, even with the flashes of gunfire and the pale moonlight to illuminate the battlefield.

His head was pounding and his lungs were burning with exertion. His arms were numb from the vibrations of impact of the swords.

“This is the mighty _Wangona_?” the grounder hissed, “is there any truth to the stories about you?”

 “I’ve killed hundreds,” Bellamy snapped, trying to sound brave but he just sounded desperate to himself, “you should run while you have the chance.”

“Hundreds,” the grounder laughed, like he couldn’t believe it, “I will take this power from you!”

Bellamy braced as the grounder rushed, and he blocked the sword but wasn’t prepared when the grounder head-butted him over the blades. Instantly the world pitched around him and he hit the ground, still unsure of which way was up. He couldn’t get a grasp on his limbs, just like back on the ice when he couldn’t get his bearings. He managed to focus his eyes to see the grounder’s knee hit him in the face. He was knocked backwards into the snow. There was blood on his face—his own blood. It was so warm in contrast to the cold snow.

Get up! He yelled at himself. If he didn’t get up he would die. Who would take care of Octavia?

“ _Wangona_ _uf ain_ ,” the grounder hissed. He stalked towards Bellamy, holding his sword by the hilt so it was pointing downwards. Bellamy could see it clearly in his head. The grounder was going to stab him, using his own body weight to force the blow since his one arm wouldn’t be enough to kill with a swinging strike. A stab wound would be more painful to die by.

Despite knowing all this, he still couldn’t get his limbs to cooperate. He felt like he was in zero-g, free-floating with nothing to anchor himself to or propel off of. The best Bellamy could do was to watch the grounder raise the sword above him and stare down the sharp tip of metal.

A horn interrupted them. It reverberated down through Bellamy’s ribs. He thought the whole forest was shaking. He knew the sound.

“ _Faya wan!_ ” The call was echoed through all of the _Azgeda_ forces.

Bellamy had a pretty good guess as to what they were saying. The horn was the alert for acid fog. His stomach dropped. Lexa must have made it to Mt Weather by now. Had they somehow figured out how to make the fog? Was she going to burn her people alive, just to kill everyone from the Arc?

No, that shouldn’t be possible. Bellamy had seen to it that the control room for the fog was destroyed. The grounders wouldn’t be able to repair it.

They also weren’t supposed to know how to use explosives, and yet they’d taken out a bridge.

Bellamy’s would-be killer recovered from his shock at the horn.

“You’d better run,” Bellamy snapped. He was lying flat on his back in no position to threaten anyone.

“ _Azgeda_ does not fear death,” the grounder snarled, spitting blood from his broken nose. He readjusted his grip and lifted his sword. Bellamy braced for the blow.

Another horn blew, so close it deafened Bellamy. A battle cry, and then cheering, from across the way on the other side of the battle. Bellamy realized he could distinctly feel and move his fingers. More grounders had arrived to the battle, were they Azgeda?

Another cheer went up from Lexa’s grounders.

“ _Heda_! _Heda_!”

“ _Kwelheda!”_ the grounder roared, forgetting about Bellamy again. His shout was echoed by other _Azgeda_ warriors.

“ _Frag op Kwelheda_!” _Azgeda_ shouted.

“ _Heda_! _Heda_!” Lexa’s grounders chanted back. The world was about as steady as it was going to be for Bellamy, and he took the opportunity presented to him. He twisted on his hip and kicked out, catching the grounder in the knee. It wasn’t enough to do much damage, but it knocked the grounder on his ass. Bellamy scrambled to his feet and ran for the battle. If Lexa and her warriors were here, it might be the safest place for him. He misjudged his recovery and his legs turned to rubber under him and he fell face-first into the snow.

He lifted his head and tried to keep crawling. Staying low to the ground helped his balance. He could see Clarke shouting and pointing towards him. She was talking to someone, but he couldn’t make out the words. She didn’t have any arrows left.

The grounder dropped onto Bellamy with his knee in the middle of Bellamy’s back and his sword pierced Bellamy’s shoulder. Bellamy screamed.

“I will bring your head to _Azplana_ ,” the grounder said.

Bellamy stared forwards. Clarke was still gesturing madly. Where was Octavia? He needed to be sure she was safe. Lincoln would take care of her. He promised to look after her.

Because he was looking ahead, he saw the crowd part as Lexa’s monstrous horse thundered towards them. It was frothing white at the mouth; otherwise it looked like a piece of starless sky that Lexa had bent to her will. Lexa’s hair streamed behind her, and she’d painted her face black with her own blood. Her sword gleamed dangerously in the moonlight.

“ _Kwelheda_!” The grounder on his back hissed, and yanked the sword out of Bellamy. Bellamy curled to cradle the wound. The cold snow felt like a balm on his injured face. The grounder stood up, pounded his chest with his injured hand and lunged at Lexa. Horse hooves passed within inches of Bellamy’s face, and Lexa took off the grounders head with one swing.

 “ _Azgeda ste taik daun_! _Ron_ _we fou oyun medo flaim daun! Tel op Azplana fousen-de Heda nou teik in natrona! Ai na frag op en sad klin gon op Heda_ ” Lexa roared, standing up in her saddle. She was clutching her injured hand tight to her stomach and directing her horse with her knees. That meant she’d cut off a man’s head with her weaker hand. Once again, Bellamy realized that his fiancé was much more formidable than she appeared.

The roar of the other warriors Lexa had brought with her from the mountain filled the air. The _Azgeda_ warriors, one by one, began to flee. Kane led a charge to follow them into the woods to ensure they left.

“Bellamy,” Lexa shouted, moving her horse closer. Bellamy could barely see her in the dark. She towered above him on her horse. He pushed himself to his knees and looked up at her dumbly.

“Get up,” Lexa ordered.

For the life of him, Bellamy couldn’t find an argument to the order. He wasn’t having much fun being cold and wet in the snow. So he clutched tightly to his injured shoulder and pushed himself to his feet. Instantly the world lurched and he staggered, knees weak, and caught himself against the horse. He doubled over and threw up, every movement jolted all of his injuries and made him even dizzier. The horse didn’t flinch. It might have been a stature except for its heaving breaths that steamed in the cold air.

“We must hurry,” Lexa insisted, “they will realize the horn is a distraction.” Someone blew the horn for the acid fog again. It rattled the trees and made Bellamy’s teeth ache.

“My head,” Bellamy whined. It was so hard to stay upright. He let go of his shoulder to clutch at Lexa’s saddle to keep himself standing, “my sister,” he whimpered. He needed to see Octavia.

“Give me your hand,” Lexa instructed. This time Bellamy felt an urge to argue with her. She wasn’t the boss of him. In fact, she was practically the enemy as well. But the world was still spinning. He wasn’t going to get anywhere like this. He closed his eyes tight to keep from getting sick again and thrust his hand in what he hoped was an upwards direction. Lexa nearly lifted him into the saddle on her own. His shoulder screamed in agony. He was able to get a foot in the stirrup to help hoist himself up and over. He cradled his injured arm close to himself.

“Hold on,” Lexa instructed, “we are going to survive.”

Bellamy realized belatedly that she meant hold on _to her_ , and she urged her horse forwards before he could balance himself. He grabbed onto Lexa tighter than he intended, using his good arm, and ended up with his face in her hair. She kept her sword in her good hand, and had the reigns for her horse loosely wrapped around her injured wrist to keep them from getting in the way.

“ _Trikru! Skaikru!_ To the mountain!” Lexa hollered. A resounding cheer echoed amongst their people.

“But—people are hurt,” Bellamy said.

“We don’t have time,” Lexa insisted, “that was a scouting party from _Azgeda_. There could be more in the forest. We only drove them off because we took them by surprise. _Maun-de_ is nearly abandoned right now. The dead are gone, and we must keep the living alive. _Mafta op ai, Belomi._ ” The last was said quietly, to him, before Lexa raised her sword and shouted proudly, drawing a responding cry from their people who followed her.

She turned her horse with her knees and raced into the night. They nearly trampled a wolf that had been trying to feast on one of the bodies lying in the snow. Bellamy didn’t know if it was one of theirs or one of their attackers. They were moving so fast it was making him nauseous all over again, so he pressed the un-injured side of his face into Lexa’s shoulder and tried to endure.

There were lights flashing in his eyes, and he couldn’t tell if it was the concussion or the torches of the _Azgeda_ army coming back to kill them all.

I did this, Bellamy thought to himself. One bullet was all it took to get him to earth to save Octavia, kill 300 people in a culling, and threaten the lives of everyone else on the Arc. One bullet was all it took for him to kill the rest of them, down on the ground. If he hadn’t fired that bullet then _Azgeda_ wouldn’t have been able to find them until they were safe.

The dead were gone because of him. He really did deserve the title _Wangona_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng Translations:
> 
> Sekenomon – Abby’s nickname amongst the grounders for her ability to bring the dead back to life (which isn’t accurate, but she has the advanced medical knowledge they lack). It literally means ‘Second Mother’.
> 
> Nomon—mother.
> 
> Maun-de—literally ‘The Mountain’. It’s what the grounders call Mt Weather.
> 
> Gona kom Skaikru—literally ‘warriors of Skaikru’.
> 
> Faygon—gun
> 
> Splita—outsider
> 
> Nonomon—combo of ‘noda’ (another) and ‘nomon’ (mother), literally meaning ‘another mother’. It essentially translates to ‘babysitter’. There were plenty of ways to put this ‘idea’ together in trig but I went for this one because it’s fun to say, haha.
> 
>  
> 
> **You are free to translate the conversation Indra has with the Azgeda scouts, which I also encourage. But for Plot Reasons I won’t be providing a translation (: (The Plot Reasons being that Bellamy doesn't speak Trig and so he doesn't know what's going on at all, lmao. But also like... real plot. Hint hint.)
> 
>  
> 
> Wangona uf ai—‘Wangona’s [strength] will be mine’. My grounders still believe that killing someone means you get their strengths and powers as well. (Which puts targets on Clarke and Bellamy’s backs, yikes!)
> 
> Faya wan—literally ‘fire wind’. There’s no official Trig term for Acid Fog, so I made up my own.
> 
> Azplana—Ice Queen. Azgeda means Ice Nation, but like the show, I find ‘Azgedakru’ to be a mouthful, so people from the Ice Nation collectively are also called Azgeda.
> 
>  
> 
> **Again, feel free to translate yourself!
> 
>  
> 
> Mafta op ai, Belomi—‘Follow my lead, Bellamy’. Just in case you’d forgotten their catch-phrase after all this time (:
> 
>    
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------  
>  
> 
> And that’s it for this chapter! Thanks to all of you for reading. I can’t promise when the next chapter will be posted, but hopefully I’ll see all of you once it’s online :)
> 
> What did you think of this chapter? Will they ever make it to Mt Weather? Are they all even going to survive? Lexa might be the only one to make it barely in one piece, and she broke her hand to save Clarke (and Raven). I loved writing Bellamy fighting because his method of fighting is ‘shoot them and then panic if that doesn’t work’ lmao. But then I gotta ask—why are the Arc people so good with guns. Why were they trained for guns on a space station. I’m no astronaut but I can safely say that guns on spaceships are A) a limited resource and B) REALLY DUMB TO HAVE. Anyways, that’s why Bellamy’s guard training is actually hand-to-hand combat, as I mentioned in one of his fights. They can fight one-on-one, but aren’t really prepared for weapons since there weren’t a lot of those on the Arc either.
> 
> Someone help these poor kids. They’re going to have to start wedding-planning soon.
> 
> See ya next time!


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